


Fathoms

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Rescue Fic, Unresolved Tension, based on Splash and the Little Mermaid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2488346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Primarily 1x2. A random brush with death makes Heero long to meet his savior. He doesn’t know that encounter demands a sacrifice. Changed title from “You Were the Ocean, and I Was the Sand.</p>
<p>Author’s Note: This is non-canon, because I’m new to the Gundam Wing fandom and I’m still watching my way through a whole mess of YouTube episodes. Expect alternate verse and familiar characters acting slightly OOC (or very OOC). Reviews welcome, but no rotten tomatoes, please. *ducks*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Gundam Wing fandom or the Gundam Wing characters contained within this story. I make no money from writing this work of fanfiction, it’s for entertainment purposes only. Probably only my own…

 

If he swam up just high enough, he could see sunlight.

Zechs lingered behind him, several fathoms below, communing with a mother whale and crooning to her three-day old baby. His brother turned eyes like liquid blue diamonds on him and reached for him, hand outstretched.

_Don’t go too far._

_I won’t._

_Famous last words. Father’ll have both our hides._

Zechs caught Duo’s grin and sighed.

_What does he find so fascinating up there?_

_You’ve got me._ The mother whale crooned back to him in sympathy.

Duo’s deep, cobalt blue tail rippled and whipped through the placid deep. He swam higher, reveling in the light that broke through the darkness. It was so pure and beautiful.

_Duo!_

_In a minute!_

*

The sun felt so good on his back.

Heero picked up the Starbucks cup and took a long gulp of the strong brew. This was how he loved to wake up.

The morning was placid as he cast off from the pier a half hour ago, but the farther out he motored, the denser the clouds overhead became. Still, it was a balmy day so far, perfect to get a few decent shots.

“I don’t like those clouds.”

“Why? They haven’t done anything to you.”

“Cute.”

“I won’t be out that long.” Heero was nonplussed as he slid into his black and green wet suit. Wufei helped him tug it into place and zip up the heavy neoprene at his lean back.

A strong breeze ruffled both men’s hair, making it lash their faces. Heero took another gulp of his coffee to warm himself while Wufei continued to help him with his equipment.

“Why can’t you use the shots we nabbed last week?”

“Because we can do better.”

“I liked the manta. It looked like it was smiling at you.”

“Probably because I looked good to eat.” Wufei made a sound of disgust.

“I’d spit you out.”

Heero adjusted his heat packs while Wufei unpacked his amphibious Nikon, checking the housing for problems. Both men were talking at a near-shout over the building winds and the rhythmic _chug-chug_ of the _Zero’s_ motor. She was a modest yacht, but Heero paid for her himself once his father cut him loose.

Wufei ran through all of the preparations that were second nature to him after diving with Heero for the past two years. Heero trusted him for his sharp attention to detail, and because Wufei was no-nonsense and quick on his feet.

Heero donned his mask, obscuring his intelligent sapphire blue eyes, but Wufei knew they looked amused at his expense. He gave the seals on his suit and his oxygen tank one more check and nodded, satisfied. Wufei clapped him on the shoulder gruffly.

“Come back in one piece.”

“Aw. You care.”

“It’s your turn to buy lunch.” Wufei almost smiled. Heero’s snort was muffled by his mouthpiece. He climbed down to the second rung of the ladder and Wufei held his breath almost imperceptibly as he watched him leap neatly into the clear green.

“Why do I waste my breath?”

*

_Why do I waste my breath?_

Zechs followed Duo at a distance. _DUO!_

He swam heedlessly toward the warm glow, so high that Zechs could pick out shapes of things above the water’s surface. His vision was sharp, like that of all merfolk. They were still at least a mile deep, but he didn’t feel anymore comfortable. 

Duo swam after something small that had sunk into the deep, dragging a trail of bubbles in its wake.

*

Above deck, Wufei cursed as he stared after the pocket knife that slipped from his hand. “Shit!”

*

_Look! Finders keepers!_

_Why would you even want that hunk of flotsam?_

Zechs caught up to him and watched Duo’s face change as he focused only on the trinket in his hand. He turned it this way and that, large violet eyes taking in the minute details and craftsmanship.

But he knew why. It was shiny. Duo was as bad as a surface-dwelling mockingbird in his love for glowing, shining or sparkling things. To his credit, his first love was gadgetry or items that were functional, since he had a knack for them.

His eye for such things had served him well again, it seemed; he toyed with the object, prying it open by a small notch in the side of the blade that was there for that purpose.

_Ouch._ He pricked himself on the tip, drawing his finger into his mouth to suck on the tiny wound.

_Blood. That’s the last thing we need. Give Father one more reason to kill me, if you bring the sharks after our tails._

_We’ll be long gone by then._

_We’d better be._

Zechs was interrupted from his lecture by the sudden flurry of schools of fish rushing past, seemingly fleeing from some threat.

_That doesn’t look good._

_Don’t worry so much._

_If they’re running, don’t you want to know why?_

But Duo turned away, irritating Zechs when it seemed he was ignoring him.

_Listen…_

Zechs’ scowl was replaced by a look of caution. _What was that?_

_I don’t know…_

There was a low hissing sound that was unnatural, artificial; it accompanied the faint _whoosh_ and swish of fins that didn’t sound like the signature of any creature beneath the waves that either brother had encountered.

Zechs reached for his brother, ringing his wrist in an unrelenting grip. _Go! NOW!_

Duo didn’t argue. Their tails whipped through the current like lightning as they propelled themselves toward their grotto.

Behind them, a dim light flashed as an underwater lens caught the ripple of movement.

_What was that?_

*

Heero surfaced nearly a half an hour later, just as Wufei really began to go stir crazy.

“Like watching water boil,” he muttered as Heero’s shining head broke the surface. “It’s about time,” he snapped as he reached down to help Heero climb up the ladder, trying to get a strong grip on his gloved hand. Heero wasn’t heavy himself, but his tank added to his weight. Wufei was strong but slightly built himself; his own hands were strong from handling ropes and rigging every day.

“Well?”

“More of the same,” Heero said. “Except for my last two. I wasn’t sure of what I saw on the first frame, so I had to try again.” He stared at his friend in amusement as he removed his hood, ruffling his hair with his fingers. “What’s the matter?”

“Lost my good knife.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

“Could’ve looked for it while you were down there.”

“Sure. While I’m at it, I’ll let you know if I find your contact lens or your car keys.”

But Heero was sympathetic. He knew it was ‘Fei’s favorite knife. The tight, frustrated expression on his face stopped Heero from nagging that he probably shouldn’t have insisted on bringing it on their trip. It wasn’t worth it.

“Damn it.” Wufei pounded his fist against the rail and glared out over the expanse of clear green, as though he was willing it to spit his most valued possession back onto the deck.

“C’mon. Let’s go back to the lab and see what we’ve got.”


	2. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo is chided by his family, and with good reason.

Author’s Note: Yes, the chapter title is my attempt at irony. Yes, it was lame. Oh, just read it, already.

Duo and Zechs darted through the slow, heavy current, whipping up a froth of bubbles in their wake. They retreated from the golden light Duo coveted quickly, putting as much distance between themselves and the odd presence they heard as possible. Disappointment swamped Duo, but his foster brother’s concern and panic made him push the emotion down while he allowed him to pull him away.

They rode a rapid eddy toward the grotto, batting away the clouds of seaweed that brushed past their faces and lodged in their hair.

_You can let go now._

_I don’t think so. I’m not facing Father alone once I have to explain where we’ve been._

_Why do we even have to explain?_

_Because we’ve been gone too long._ Zechs’ voice in his head was clipped and impatient. Duo peered over at his brother’s face peripherally and saw his irritated look. _Why do you think?_

_We didn’t do anything wrong!_

_No, **I** didn’t do anything wrong. You know the rules. And whenever you get in trouble, I get in trouble._

Duo was glad Zechs couldn’t hear his sigh within the frigid depths.

They’d had this discussion before.

_I’m older, and I get to take the blame whenever you just swim off into your own little world. You love getting away with murder._

_So what are you, the alpha fish?_

_Brat._ Duo took the opportunity afforded by a large school of yellow angel fish swarming over them as the brothers interrupted their smooth pattern of motion, and he yanked his wrist free from Zech’s grip.

_Oh no you don’t!_

_Leggo!_

_NO! Get back here, Duo!_

_Get that stick out of your vent, Zechs._

_I’m not letting you run off._ Duo pretended he didn’t hear him as he floated at a more sedate pace through the pods nestled in the long cavern. He closed the psychic channel between them, but he felt Zechs fuming at him, anyway.

Duo felt himself yanked back just as he was about to exit the duct at the end of the corridor. _Why do you still have that piece of junk?_

 _It’s not junk! Why? Jealous?_ Duo evaded his brother’s grab for the small knife. _Mine!_ He whipped around in a playful spiral, grinning at his brother’s expense as he tried again to take it from him and discard it. He kept passing the knife from one hand to the other behind his back. He flicked his cobalt tail at his brother and wriggled his anal fin, the merfolk equivalent of shooting him a full moon.

 _Want him to catch you with it? Might as well announce to anyone within a fathom that you went too close to the surface. Again._ Zechs’ voice was deadpan in Duo’s head as he emphasized the last word.

_Still not getting it._

_Bottom feeder…_ Zechs swore.

They paused as they reached the gate. Two eel-tailed sentries slithered and coiled together so that they floated back to back, each at the ready for oncoming threats.

 _Scales, youngsters._ The older guard impatiently held out his hand. His opal green eyes raked over Duo with scorn. _Just like a live-mater to come wandering home late._ Duo stiffened. Zechs flanked his brother protectively now, offended.

_Watch your tongue._

_Nay. **You** watch my tongue, guppy. You’re both late. I’d be within my rights to deny you and leave you to the sharks. The beacon sounded an hour ago._ He held out his hand again. _Scales_.

Duo reached for the amulet around his neck and opened it. The guard’s hand darted out and practically yanked it from Duo’s neck. _HEY! OW!_ It’s fine chain was tangled in his long hair, and it smarted when the guard’s rough pull snatched at the locks at his nape.

The sentry’s smirk fell and his eyes widened when he saw the insignia stained on the glowing, pearlescent scale in octopus ink. _Prince Duo,_ he stammered. He released the amulet, which Duo snatched back indignantly.

 _Fool,_ his partner hissed. He nodded to the juvenile. _Didn’t you see his eyes?_ he demanded, as though he had noticed them all along, even though he’d been just as incensed at the temerity of the two young mermen to show up so late at the gates.

Zechs projected his words coldly, his eyes hard, narrowed blue chips. _It shouldn’t matter who he is. As long as he has identification, he should be treated the same way as anyone else._ Zechs unfastened the amulet from his neck and passed it over so that he, too, could be identified.

 _Prince Zechs._ If the sentries weren’t chastened before, they were now. Both of them looked positively green, which had nothing to do with their regular pallor. They returned his scale to him and untwined themselves. Each of them reached up and turned the seaweed-tangled copper wheels that raised the gates.

Both young princes swam up, up toward the low glow of the pods and nests, illuminated by dinoflagellates and jellyfish and the reflecting surface of mother-of pearl canopies over the dwellings’ windows.

The grotto filled a five-mile wide dome and housed the Sanq compound and the towering, gleaming palace that had been Duo’s only home from the night he was found. Zechs led his brother behind him just short of dragging him to the entrance. Passerby swam past them and stared, some pausing to point furtively at the king’s younger child. Speculating about the younger prince’s antics and betting on his father’s reactions was a favorite sport among the locals.

Two more sentries bowed to them as they entered the main hall. The interior of the anteroom was brightly lit, a sharp contrast from the shadowy depths where the boys spent their afternoon. To Duo, it paled in comparison to natural sunlight, even filtering through the water. He ignored the elaborate, sumptuous surroundings and headed for the kitchens. Zechs sighed and shook his blond head, stirring his ripples of platinum blonde hair.

 _There he goes, letting his stomach run the show. Typical._ Duo was known around the palace for having a frenetic energy and a voracious appetite.

He reached into one of the storage nets suspended from the ceiling and helped himself to two oyster shells. He extracted the quivering meat and wrapped it in a length of seaweed, then crammed it into his mouth. He sighed in contentment. Food always tasted better after an adventure.

 _There you are!_ Duo suppressed a yelp as someone sharply tugged a lock of his hair, definitely hard enough to hurt. He turned and met disapproving blue eyes. Dorothy planted her hands on her hips and stared him down. _What have you to say for yourself, young guppy?_

 _Um…do we have any abalone?_ Even his thoughts were garbled as he chewed the second oyster. He turned his back on her to rummage through the storage nets again, until she caught his ear and gave it a tweak. _OW!_

_You’ll spoil your dinner!_

_This is dinner! I’m starving._

_Which wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so late. Your father was scowling over his prawns a while ago._ Zechs wandered inside and shared her look of annoyance.

_See what I have to put up with every day?_

_Triton bless your heart,_ Dorothy agreed.

 _He won’t be that mad,_ Duo reasoned with them.

 _DUO!_ He choked on the third oyster and Zechs hurried over to him to pound his back before he aspirated it.

 _Shit,_ he muttered.

 _It’s a good thing you had a snack,_ Dorothy offered. _With the mood he’s in, that might have been your last meal._

 

*

Milliardo’s eyes were implacable as he studied his foster son. He tugged thoughtfully on a lock of his own hair, woven through with seaweed and small cowry shells. It was white as seafoam and reached down to his waist. He was an imposing man and wasn’t someone to trifle with or keep waiting.

Yet Duo seemed to delight in doing both.

_You wandered too close to the surface._

Duo swallowed. _It wasn’t that far, Father, hones-_

His father held up a hand in warning. _Save it. My aides know what they saw. I spoke to the Oracle today and she told me she saw you committing dangerous acts in her vision._

Duo shook his head. _It wasn’t dangerous! I wasn’t that close to the surface, Father._

Milliardo’s brows beetled as he leaned forward in his great throne. To Duo, his father seemed to grow with the gesture and eat up the remaining space between them, even though it was a large chamber. _Sit._ He hesitated.

 _ **SIT.**_ The roar in Duo’s mind battered his senses and sent terror spearing through his stomach. Before he could lose control over his bodily functions, he scuttled to a small hassock beside the throne and flung himself upon it. 

Ribbons of white lightning sparked in the arctic blue depths of his eyes, the same ones that stared out of Zechs’ face in amusement and disdain for him every day.

 _My son…do you know…WHY I make rules?_ Duo swallowed. The king banged his fist against the arm of his seat, and the vibrations created aftershocks that made the room around them rock and shudder. Even the cushion of the water around them didn’t blanket the booming sound.

But Duo wasn’t cowed. At best, Milliardo now had his attention. At worst, he also had his defiance on a weakened leash. His son’s beautiful, unnerving violet eyes never wavered. 

_Do you know why?_ he repeated more patiently as he leaned back in his seat.

_You think it will keep me safe, Father._

_That’s the wrong answer. Because you’re my son. More importantly, I’m the king. It’s part of my job description._ The lightning in his eyes shifted, dampening down to mere sparks. _But my rules won’t even keep you from harming yourself if you don’t **listen,** Duo._

Duo sighed heavily. _I can protect myself, Father._

 _You don’t know that, my son. You’ve been sheltered since your birth, so you’ve never had to fend for yourself beyond Sanq. And you should listen to your brother._ If Zechs had been privy to their talk, he would have smirked at Duo’s expense. 

_Don’t know why._

_It’s his duty. You’d do well not to take it for granted. We all have responsibilities, even if we don’t always appreciate their value._ Milliardo’s sigh echoed his son’s. _Your brother loves you. Don’t take that for granted, either. Or my love, for that matter._

 _Maybe you’d be better off without me being such a nuisance,_ Duo spat.

He wasn’t expecting his father to rise from his seat. He closed in on him and massive hands nearly ringed Duo’s taut upper arms in his grip. He gave him such a rough shake that his son’s teeth clacked together. _You’ve never lost someone close to you! You wouldn’t say such things…!_ His father’s chest heaved with the attempt not to throttle him. The telltale lightning began to arc from his irises with more intensity and his lips were a thin line.

The small keepsake Duo had been guarding behind his back dropped to the chamber floor. The small motion distracted his father. One of his long, slender tentacles darted out to grasp the object, even as he held Duo immobile.

Milliardo was unique, one of the few merfolk who was a hybrid of fish and the caecelii. His lower body was a deep, translucent aqua green mottled with amethyst scales that shifted color based on his moods. But most impressive were the tentacles that were the legacy of the other side of his heritage, four of them branching and rippling from his waist above his fins. More than appendages, they housed his discharges of electricity that were his natural defense.

He wasn’t one to be trifled with. Duo tested that theory every day.

He lifted the knife up for inspection, turning it over in his grip. _Gods…_ he murmured.

_It’s for cutting. Nicked myself on it a while ago._

_I know._ To Duo’s surprise, his father released him and slowly backed away, focusing only on the knife. 

The memories nearly choked Milliardo as he ran his fingertips over the intricate brown gashes burned into the ivory handle. Genuine scrimshaw, something he hadn’t seen in decades and never expected – nor wanted - to encounter again. The blade was well made and clearly the owner had taken good care of it.

Duo was even more surprised when his father handed the knife back to him.

 _Go to your room._ Duo’s stomach growled in protest.

_But I haven’t-_

_GO!_

_FATHER!_

_You’re confined until I tell you differently. No trips outside of the dome. I don’t even want you to leave the palace walls for the next three days._ Anguish twisted his son’s features and he almost backed down, but Milliardo adhered to his decision.

Violet eyes accused him of being the most hateful creature beneath the waves.

 _Yes, Father._ His son whipped around and darted out of the throne chamber, leaving his father with the sight of his retreating blue fins and long chestnut hair.

_You couldn’t possibly understand._


	3. If It Was My Last Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero ponders what he saw and makes a return trip, with dangerous consequences.
> 
> Author’s Note: I’m having a hard time focusing on any of my stories right now, due to scattered plots, writer’s block, intermittent problems with my Clearwire access (the worst Internet carrier EVER), personal stuff, exhaustion and trying to pin down the traits of the Gundam characters in my head without making them too OOC. So we’ll see. If anyone’s reading this, thank you kindly.

“I like the stingray. Nice ripple effect where the light’s hitting it.”

“That’s one of my favorites.” Wufei scanned each print with his usual lack of drama. He appreciated Heero’s skill, but he wasn’t a demonstrative person to ooh and aah over his work, particularly when he accompanied him on so many of his jaunts. Once in a while, he would grunt a low “hm” as he leafed through each photo, making Heero smirk. 

He always showed Wufei his prints and footage first, usually after coffee. Wufei respected Heero’s demand that food or drink never be brought to his light table or close to his precious frames.

Heero clicked away on his Mac, using his Photoshop suite to edit some light values on a close-up of a pod of dolphins. It was hard to make the adjustment and keep it natural looking; he had to account for the green cast over his subjects. But the act of working on the frames was soothing and one he enjoyed. Reviewing his shots reminded him of the buoyant, rippling pressure of the water pushing against him when he dove. 

Wufei retreated from the light table and headed into the small kitchenette in Heero’s office for some coffee. Moments later, he lingered in the doorway sipping the strong brew black. “Sure you don’t want any?”

“I feel like Starbucks today. Probably going to head out in a while.” Wufei snorted disdainfully into his cup.

“Five bucks for a cup of battery acid with a lid. Beats me why people love that stuff.”

“I like getting a flavor in it once in a while.”

“Get a three-dollar can of Folgers and a two-dollar bottle of that flavored creamer crap, and there you go. Starbucks flavored coffee for a month.”

“It’s an excuse to get out of the house,” Heero added. He leaned back in his seat and stretched, working out a kink in his neck. “Second thought, I might go now.”

“Was that all the frames?” Wufei inquired. He set his cup back down on the kitchen counter and crossed the room, hovering over Heero’s shoulder. Heero didn’t mind the intrusion of his personal space as ‘Fei’s chest grazed his back. They were close friends, despite ‘Fei’s sometime gruff demeanor and tendency to speak in monosyllables when he was annoyed. He carefully began flipping each hard slide over, one at a time, reviewing the images for any that he might have missed. “That one of the reef is nice.”

“Looks like something out of a coffee table book,” Heero muttered.

“So sell it to someone making a coffee table book,” Wufei shrugged. His flipping slowed as he scanned them, seeming to be searching for a frame that he glanced at before. His eyes narrowed as he separated the slide from the pile and then held it under the tiny magnifying glass. “There. Look. Tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

Heero took the magnifier and skimmed over the frame slowly. The shot had acceptable quality, certainly not one of his favorites, but Heero appreciated the light values in this piece, too. The composition was clear except for some shadows in the background. 

“Look at that blue streak,” Wufei muttered. “Can you blow it up?”

“Sure I can blow it up,” Heero chided him. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“You’ll know once it’s big enough to get a really good look at it,” Wufei challenged. Heero sighed, craning his neck up and around to stare at him. His dark blue eyes looked amused.

“That tells me a whole lot of nothing.”

“Just blow it up, already.” Heero did as he was told, opening the file in his folder dated with a timestamp of three days ago. He chose the image viewer when the system prompted him and began to toggle through it with the hand tool.

“Zoom in. There, on the right.”

“What, that blue thing?”

“It’s a tail.” Heero squinted.

“Bullshit. I don’t see it.”

“Pfft…look again. That’s a tail, look at the red and white markings. It’s like that beta fish you used to have.”

“It’s too big to be a tail, ‘Fei.” But despite his skepticism, Heero stared at the item in the image, intrigued.

It did look like a tail. But it was perhaps less than a half a mile from his position when he took the shot. “It’s…big,” he murmured. “Right before I came back up, I saw something weird. I was too busy wanting to finish taking those last few frames while I still had good light filtering through.”

“You didn’t see any big subjects?”

“Uh-uh. Nothing like that.”

Wufei examined the frame from different angles. “Bring up the zoom. Close in on that corner.” Heero obeyed, and both men squinted at the shapes, trying to discern what they were. Heero made a noise of surprise.

“Fei, that looks like a hand.” He ran his mouse cursor over the area in question.

_Fingers._

“There weren’t any other divers down there. Even if there were, what are the odds?”

“That doesn’t explain that tail.”

“If it even _is_ a tail.”

“I can’t imagine what else would be that big, but again, look at the coloring and the fins. And if you look over here,” he mentioned, commandeering Heero’s mouse, “there’s a second shape beside it.”

“I can barely make it out.” The silhouette was vague and not as detailed, which annoyed Heero. He was bound by the constraints of his equipment and environment when he took his underwater photos, but he wished he had a more accurate view of whatever narrowly avoided his lens while he was down in the deep.

“Might even be bigger than the first one,” Wufei pondered. “Wish we could find it again.”

“Sure. Something that big will just come swimming along right where I left it next time.” Wufei sighed and reached out with his thumb and finger, flicking him in the back of the head. “Ow!””

“Head to the library. Look up large fish species that have markings like that one. Who knows, you might have discovered the next urban legend.”

“Like Loch Ness?”

“Jaws,” Wufei smirked.

*

There he was again, almost like clockwork…

Quatre held the business section close enough to his face to smell the musty newsprint above the other aromas in the coffee shop. He peered around the edge of the paper periodically to watch the front counter.

A strikingly tall, lanky young man with careless cinnamon brown hair perused the chalkboard menu’s offerings, and Quatre’s stomach twisted itself in a knot. He admired his casual stance, the way the graceful cords of muscle in his neck stretched up as he looked up at the sign. He fished his wallet from his pocket, riffling through the billfold with long, slender fingers. Quatre felt heat rise up in his cheeks, knowing his feelings were made plain by his cursed fair skin.

_God, I feel like such a stalker…_

He always came to the shop alone, something Quatre noticed after the fifth “coincidence” in a row of seeing the handsome brunet when he went for his morning latte fix. He always made a beeline for the same table in the back, just shy of the rest rooms. Quatre occasionally regretted not nabbing that table for himself, but he wasn’t that bold. And if he had to be honest, he hated the lack of decent light in that corner of the café. Natural sunlight was better for working on his sketches, so he made a point of taking any one of the three tables situated by the windows. The warmth bathed his back, but watching his favorite subject furtively from behind the paper for scant seconds at a time, trying not to get caught, was giving him funny chills. _What am I, twelve?_

But every time the young man turned in his direction, as if he felt a pair of eyes roving hungrily over him, Quatre ducked, pretending to focus on the Times crossword, the classifieds, Ask Heloise, anything… He’d be mortified if he caught him.

“Soy. No foam, please. Splenda? Um…Venti. Yes. Yes. No, thanks.” His replies to the barista were brief; his voice was deep with a slightly rough timbre and a neutral accent. Quatre couldn’t guess where he was from, one more thing that intrigued him. The young man perused the gift sets on bar across from the counter, occasionally flipping over plastic-wrapped mugs and boxes to peek at the exorbitant prices stickered on the bottoms.

_Call his name._ It drove Quatre crazy. The buzz of noise in the café was always too loud and distracting for him to hear it when they announced that his drink was ready, or otherwise, the barista usually just caught his eye and held up the drink. Then Tall, Dark and Hunky usually cruised over, took his drink and retired to his table, or worse, darted out the door. Quatre was frustrated, not just over his own shyness, since he was an outgoing enough person; what he hated was that he was running on empty, the worse for wear from his long dry spell. He supposed it was his own fault; he was the one who broke it off, after all. Quatre refused to live his life under someone else’s thumb.

The second counter girl hastily set down a rack of clean ceramic cups and dried her hands on a towel. The first barista was at the register, handling a growing line of customers, and she looked harried. Her partner took her cue and began taking finished drinks from the tray and calling out names.

“TROWA?” she beckoned. Quatre’s ears perked up. “Soy latte for Trowa?” Quatre suppressed a smile as his favorite obsession raised his hand briefly and retrieved his order. 

_Don’t leave. Stay a while. Come on, now…_ Quatre’s mental chant was rewarded when he grabbed a handful of recycled brown paper napkins and headed back toward the table. Good. Quatre had a few more minutes to enjoy watching him-

His cell phone trilled from his pocket and he smothered a curse. “This is Quatre,” he said blandly.

“Change of plans, little brother,” Iria chirped. He heard her fingers click-clacking across her keyboard in the background. She took a hurried gulp of her own drink before she told him, “They rescheduled the conference.”

“For when?”

“Now,” she shrugged.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Quatre was already gathering up his things, figuring out how to juggle his large folio, laptop carrying case and his unfinished drink. He set the drink back down on the table and slung the strap of the case over his opposite shoulder, not caring that it felt binding across his chest as long as it didn’t slip off. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’m printing you the handouts.”

“I can download them when I get there. I have my laptop.”

“You won’t need it,” she argued.

“I don’t want to waste paper. I’m not killing a tree for the sake of a few spreadsheets.”

“I’m printing them anyway for everyone else who asked, you might as well have copies, too.”

Quatre sighed heavily. “Fine. Be there in five.” He clicked his phone shut and went to shove it in his pocket. It slid free of the opening of his pocket, not quite making it in, and it clattered to the floor. Quatre made a noise of disgust. “Fer cryin’ out loud…” From that point on, he developed a case of the dropsies. Just when he bent down to get the phone, he nearly strangled himself coming back up when the strap to his laptop snagged itself on the edge of the chair. Then he promptly knocked his folio off the table, and the fastener unsnapped, sending the contents sliding across the floor. 

“Great,” he muttered. That flush in his cheeks was back, and he felt annoyed with himself. He knelt carefully and gathered up his pencils and his day planner, rearranging the remaining contents in the folio to make room for his sketchbook. He went to reach for it, but it was gone from where it landed. “Huh? Shoot…” he checked under the table and his abandoned chair, but it wasn’t there.

“You dropped this,” informed the voice hovering at his back. Quatre’s hand froze in the act of snapping the folio, and he turned slowly toward his visitor. _It can’t be. God, please tell me he didn’t pick the worst moment possible to come over here…_

But he did. Amused green eyes stared down at him, and Quatre rose from his kneeling position to take the proffered sketchbook. His mouth didn’t want to work. “Thanks,” he murmured. “Didn’t want to lose this.”

“Looked like you needed some help.”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just falling apart,” Quatre agreed, giving him a shy smile. “Everything got away from me.”

“Helps if you have ten more hands.” Quatre briefly examined his sketchbook and was relieved nothing had happened to it. He reopened his folio and tucked it protectively inside.

“Thanks for the, uh, help,” Quatre stammered. “I’d better go, I’ve gotta run.” He fished for something else to say. “Enjoy your soy latte…” He realized he’d just blabbed how long he’d been spying on him and wanted to kick himself. “Enjoy,” he repeated as he hurried off.

“Sure. Bye,” Trowa called out cheerfully, waving at his retreating back. 

Quatre counted ten breathless steps and chanced a look back over his shoulder. There he was, staring after him with that same quiet amusement. Holding Quatre’s forgotten coffee. He saluted him with it. _Crap…_

His cheeks were really on fire now. _Stupid, stupid, STUPID…_ He trotted back inside and tentatively reached for the drink.

“I would’ve wondered where that went.”

“I figured.”

“Right. Thanks!”

“Welcome. Take care.”

And he was off. His embarrassment didn’t fade until he was immersed in the conference, too busy to focus on anything else. The memory of those green eyes lingered with him, though.

*

 

_After sundown:_

 

It felt good to be alone with this thoughts. Heero listened to the quiet lap of the water against _Zero’s_ hull and watched a flock of terns fly in a perfect ‘V’ across the smoky clouds. He shivered inside his thick, navy wool peacoat, glad he’d thought to bring it, even though the day had been warm. He gulped some of his cooling tea and contemplated what kind of dinner he could rummage from his galley’s limited stores.

_Sure. Something that big will just come swimming along right where I left it next time._ Wufei’s opinion of what he saw nagged him. He’d had such a brief glimpse of it, had so little time to focus and shoot, and Heero didn’t trust his own eyes.

Heero liked things that were tangible, straightforward and concrete. It wasn’t another diver, that much he knew, so the possibility of that form in the frame being a human hand wasn’t even worth considering.

The beauty of diving was that he didn’t have to share the ocean with anyone else. Its vast, cool deep was his playground for as long as his tanks held out. Only people disappointed each other; fish were uncomplicated creatures. Heero still had a handful of letters from his father lying unopened on his bureau. He just wasn’t ready.

Heero’s radio crackled to life, stirring him from his musings. He ducked inside and picked up the handset.

“Heero here.”

“Heard your outgoing voice mail,” Wufei informed him. “Want me to bring in your mail?”

“I’m only going to be gone three days, four at the most.”

“I can get it anyway.” Wufei had the spare key to Heero’s townhouse. “I was going to feed your fish, anyway.” Heero grunted and took another sip of his tea.

“That’s fine. You’re welcome to whatever’s in the fridge.”

“The heels of a loaf of bread, some dried up lunch meat and a half a pitcher of unsweetened ice tea doesn’t qualify as food. When’s the last time you went shopping?”

“Probably the last time I ate at home. I hate to cook.”

“But you don’t hate to eat,” Wufei reasoned. “Learn how to cook more simple things. I don’t trust restaurants. They could be spitting in your soup or dropping your steak on the floor before it gets to the table. And they use produce treated with pesticides.” Wufei was an organic food nut and preached homeopathic medicine like it was gospel.

“Gives it extra minerals,” Heero muttered. “Look, don’t go through a lot of extra trouble, okay? Three days, maybe four; that’s it.” Wufei sighed. 

“Famous last words. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Before Heero could form a tart rejoinder, a hand clapped itself over his shoulder and something hard and cold pressed itself against his temple.

*

 

The sentries didn’t question why Prince Duo was headed out of the grotto so late, merely bowing to him as they opened the gates. The earlier incident with his identification left them cowed and wary. Duo snickered to himself at their kow-towing as he darted out into the deep. _Useless jellyfish,_ he thought.

His father would be furious. Zechs remained unconvinced at Duo’s mumbled _Nothing_ when he demanded to know what he was planning. His younger brother looked far too innocent and was being too quiet. Zechs clung to his side like a barnacle throughout the night, ensuring that Duo remained within palace walls for the duration of his punishment.

That made it all the more satisfying when Duo snuck out. He loved his older brother but lived to make his life hell. Being the youngest son freed Duo from some of the obligations of the throne, leaving Zechs to bear the brunt of the responsibility and the weight of the crown as Milliardo’s successor, but more importantly, he carried the burden of keeping his brother from harm. Duo lingered in the library pod later than usual, trying to outlast his brother and tire him out, but Zechs wasn’t having it, remaining just as alert as though it were the first light of day.

He didn’t stop nagging Duo until he left the library in seeming defeat. They headed back toward their suite, and Duo dawdled until Zechs gave him an impatient little shove.

_Hurry up. I want to go to bed._

_So go. Who’s stopping you?_

_Not without you._

_Awwww, Zechs…gonna tuck widdle bwother into bed?_

_Brat._ Zechs looped a lock of Duo’s hair around his index finger and pulled, close to his sensitive scalp where it would sting most.

_OW! ZECHS!_

_Move it. Bed! NOW! March!_

_Leave me alone,_ Duo grumbled, turning to take umbrage, but Zechs wasn’t having it. He jerked Duo’s arm and spun him back around, not letting go of it as he pushed him toward their suite.

_Bad things happen when I leave you alone. And they usually happen to **me**. I’m not letting you out of my sight, so that means you’re going to bed. End of story. And I’m not tucking you in._ Zechs peered down at him as they approached the door to their suite. _And get that look out of your eye._

_What look?_

_You know what look._

_You’re worse than Father. Why don’t you go tell him what a great job you’re doing of bullying me and getting on my case._

_This isn’t ‘on your case.’ This is me taking a day off from being ‘on your case.’ Don’t underestimate me._ They entered the suite and Zechs inserted one of the light pods into the lantern by the bed, illuminating the room and throwing prisms of color along the walls. The brothers’ shadows danced as they moved about, preparing for bed. Duo went to his trunk and opened the rusted lock. _NOW what are you doing?_

_Nothin’. None of your business._ Duo reached inside and found what he was looking for. He curled up his tail and rested back against the wall, toying with the small knife. The scrimshaw handle still intrigued him. The picture depicted a small boat docked in a harbor along with the name of the port, which Duo didn’t recognize.

_Put that away. Get ready for bed, Duo._

_Where do you think it came from?_

_What does it matter? Put it away._ Zechs removed his amulet and set it in the small box recessed into wall of his bed pod. He groomed out some strands of seaweed from his hair and untangled a tiny hermit crab from where it was trapped, flicking it away. It scuttled off and buried itself in the silt of the ocean floor.

_What do you think it was like? Where Mother came from?_ Duo was focusing on the blade as he spoke, and his voice was contemplative and sad. Zechs’ glare softened somewhat as he hovered over him.

_I don’t think about it. She loved it here. You’re too young to remember._

_No, I’m not._

_I mean when you were spawned._ Zechs sat beside him, close enough that their translucent fins brushed and fluttered against each other. _She was beautiful. You used to cry all the time until she sang to you. She liked odd little things like this, too._ He nodded to the knife. _Just strange bits of flotsam and trinkets. That’s where you get it from. Her favorite thing was red coral, though._

_Maybe she should have stayed on the surface, then. Bet you think so, too._ Duo winced at the sudden tightening grip Zechs had on his arm again. His winter blue eyes sparked with small whips of energy, not unlike his father’s when he was angered.

_Never say that. Never again, Duo. I don’t think that, even when you make me want to strangle you with your hair. And don’t tempt me._ A strange, unfamiliar emotion was written in Duo’s eyes: shame. Zechs’ hand softened its grip as his brother bowed his face. _Never say that, Duo._ He collected his brother into his arms and held him so tightly he could feel his heart pounding through his own flesh.

They prepared themselves for bed. Zechs indulged himself in his usual ritual of nagging Duo how to braid his thick, unruly hair while he combed it, before he accused him with _You’re doing it all wrong, give me that_ and took the grooming implement from him. For all that he bemoaned Duo’s daily tortures and misbehavior, Zechs secretly enjoyed this quiet time with his brother. But there was no way he’d ever tell him that. His long, deft fingers sifted through it, urging out stray knots and tangles and smoothing the soft mass with the brush. He wove it into a taming, neat long braid, satisfied with it as he hefted it in his hand. _There. Bed._ He didn’t tuck him in, despite Duo’s repeated, derisive offer that he met with a snort. They extinguished the light, and both of them listened to the underwater echo and whoosh of each other’s breathing.

_He’s going to fall asleep first. All I need is another few minutes._ Duo chanted this in his thoughts like a mantra. Minutes ticked into an hour. Duo occupied himself by counting the schools of fish slowly drift by their window. Then Zechs’ breathing became deeper and more sonorous, and Duo caught the large rush of bubbles drift up from Zech’s pod in the dark. Success; he was asleep.

Duo crept out of his pod and silently collected his identification scale and amulet. As an afterthought, he took the small knife and tucked its sheath tightly into his braid. The only other implement he took was a small, hand-triggered harpoon, deciding it was better to be safe than sorry. He tucked it into a holster and looped the strap over his shoulder. Freedom loomed near and made minnows flutter in his gut.

*

He made his brief, polite greetings to a pod of orcas as he rose toward the surface; they kept their smug comments to themselves until he left.

_Milliardo’s youngest is such a brat. He’s not mean, but just spoiled. He gives him too much free rein._

_I’d love to know how he made his way out of the palace at this hour without anyone stopping him._

_He’s a wily little thing, I’ll give him that._

_He gives Zechs fits._

_Better him than me…_ They chuckled amongst themselves as they hunted krill and watched him from afar. As an afterthought, they trumpeted a warning. _Boat. Ten fathoms off. Careful, now._ He didn’t respond, and that worried them.

*

 

“Turn that off,” a gruff voice muttered in Heero’s ear, stirring the hairs at his temple. “Then back away.” Heero held up his hands and adrenaline rushed in his ears, quickening his heartbeat.

“What are you doing here?”

“Borrowing your boat. Made sense to wait til you started it up, eh? Beats figuring out how to get the keys away from you while you were docked.” Heero’s lips tightened grimly. _Blast._ He didn’t know how he’d done something so amateurish. He should have done a walk-through of the cabin and turned on all of the lights before he left the pier. He didn’t have time for self-recriminations. “Turn it off.”

_”Heero? Who’s there? Answer me, Heero!”_

“FEI!” Heero cried, but the man behind him reached out and punched the off button of Heero’s comm. Pain exploded in the back of his head and he was shoved away from the console. He heard the engines cut off and the yacht rocked with the lapping current. 

“Nice try, asshole,” the man muttered. “Stay down!”

“There isn’t much here,” a second man informed him from the galley. “This tub’s nicer from the outside.”

“Where’s the safe? Don’t be shy, princess. Talk.”

“Don’t…keep anything valuable on board,” Heero hissed out. The man towering above him reached for him, pawing at him and tugging at the fastenings of his coat.

“Search him!” Heero felt more violated as they stripped the coat from him, then his hooded sweatshirt, exposing him to the cabin’s drafty interior. They emptied his pockets and gave him a small kick. “What else have you got?”

“That’s it; I swear,” he grunted. “There’s nothing else. Bastards,” he hissed under his breath. That earned him a more savage kick in the ribs.

“Why don’t I believe you?” He heard his partner rummaging through the sleeping space in back, going through his limited personal effects.

“Nice camera,” one of them remarked. “Rest of this stuff’s crap.” 

_NO!_ Heero tried not to let them see his anguish. That camera _was_ valuable, in terms of monetary and emotional worth. The man above him kept a mean-looking Glock trained on him, but he intermittently looked up as he watched his partner’s activity. 

“How much gas does this thing have?”

“It’s full up,” Heero told him coldly. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Nice.” POW! He grabbed Heero by his short dark hair and bashed his face against the doorframe that led onto the deck. “Got a wise ass here.” His partner huffed in amusement.

“It’s his party. We came to his house,” he reasoned. “He gets to make the rules.”

“No. He doesn’t.” He flung him back and Heero heard the dull click of the gun being cocked. “How much fuel have we got?”

Heero ignored the question, furtively watching the man’s stance. He favored his left leg instead of planting his weight on both feet. Behind him there was an Adirondack chair that Heero usually kept on deck on sunny days.

*

 

Whatever was above the surface was big. Even in the dark, he could see its dimly illuminated silhouette. That wasn’t natural moonlight, either; he wasn’t accustomed to the homely yellowish glow. He put caution aside for curiosity’s sake and swam the remaining distance. He noticed strange implements protruding from its bottom. Intrigued, he reached out and felt the rough, hard edge of one of the blades.

_Odd._ It looked almost like a fin. His mechanical tendencies told him that it helped move the boat, somehow, perhaps a kind of propeller? Why wasn’t it moving now? He wandered around to the starboard side, wanting to get a better glimpse.

Something small splashed down in a rush of bubbles. Duo darted for it before it could sink, and he was surprised at its soft, malleable feel. It was a brown container of some kind, with smaller compartments and pockets inside. Duo started in surprise at the clear sheathes as he read tiny words printed on the objects inside them. More wondrous was the topmost one. It held the image of a young man. Duo traced his features with his fingertip, awed.

_Voices._ He heard strange thumping sounds, disembodied with the wall of water between himself and the source. He could make out other sounds, _words,_ something wholly unfamiliar to his ears. Duo burned with curiosity; he had to go topside. 

Brisk, cold air bathed his flesh as he broke through, taking his first, virgin breath of air above the water’s surface. He gasped in great gulps of it, then sneezed at the sting as it burned his nostrils. He didn’t have much of a chance to ponder whether he liked it. Another loud thump drew his attention to the boat, and he clung to the side of the boat, swimming around for a better look.

*

Heero swept the man’s leg out from under him in one smooth motion, hating how the motion jarred his sore ribs. He scuttled for the chair once the man was down, wisely noting that he hadn’t dropped the Glock. But he had a slim window of opportunity to get back on the radio, and if necessary, to get a hold of the gun. Before his hijacker could get up, Heero grabbed the Adirondack chair by the leg and swung it, connecting it with his neck. This time he did drop the gun.

“SHIT!” His partner was stunned at the shift in momentum in the cabin. Heero was behind his captor now, forearm curled in an effective choke hold around his throat and the gun pointed behind his ear. His cold blue eyes stared his partner down.

“Roughed me up pretty good. Gave me a pretty good headache,” Heero explained shakily. “I don’t trust my trigger finger right now, buddy. It might slip.”

“You won’t do anything,” he accused. But his eyes were fearful and uncertain.

“Maybe I won’t. Not if I don’t feel like I have to.” Heero jerked the man in his arms to his feet. “Turn on the comm. Now.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think-“

“Turn it ON!” Heero knew Wufei had to be out of his mind with worry, but the main thing was to let him know his location, and that he wasn’t alone. More than anything, he needed to send out an SOS. “Easy, now…” The man struggled against him, taking shallow sips of air. “NOW!”

“All right, asshole, all right!” he shouted. Heero wouldn’t turn his back on his partner, and he dug the barrel of the gun more firmly into his skull. The man reached over and turned on the comm., and Heero nodded with satisfaction as it crackled to life. He patched into his own frequency, knowing Wufei hadn’t left his townhouse.

_“Heero? Is that you!”_

“Yeah, ‘Fei. I’ve got company. Listen…” He was cut off when the man’s foot kicked back and nailed his left kneecap. Then he wrapped his foot around Heero’s ankle tripped him, driving him backwards against the doorframe. Heero “oof’ed!” and felt his wind being knocked from his chest. His assailant elbowed him in the sternum, and Heero heard the gun clatter from his fingers.

“I’ve had enough of his sonofabitch,” he spat, and he grabbed the discarded chair, bringing it down on Heero’s head. Heero slumped lifelessly to the floor.

“Finish him off.”

“Nah.” They ignored Wufei’s frantic voice on the other end of the radio and turned it back off. He nudged Heero with his foot. “Throw him over. No way is anyone gonna find his body on this tub when we dump it at the port.” His partner sighed.

“This sucks. This was supposed to go off without any bullshit.”

“Pretend there wasn’t any bullshit and help me.” He struggled with Heero until his partner came to help him, grabbing his ankles. The young man felt surprisingly light, and he had a compact, wiry build.

“Bon voyage!” They heaved him over the side and were satisfied at the deep, dull splash. Heero’s face disappeared beneath the water; his hand seemed to bob up in a supplicating gesture before it, too, sank.


	4. My Brother’s Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo comes to Heero’s rescue…but who will come to his?
> 
> Author’s Note: Thanks for your patience. This story is kicking my butt. The inspiration is there, but my initial plot got so jumbled and has strayed so far away from me. I’ve been wanting to draw some fan art to go with this eventually, since I have a whole mess of X-Men fan sketches and lots of Archie stuff, too, but none for Gundam. One more thing on my huge list of stuff to do.

“Sir, can you slow down a bit? Speak more clearly so I can understand you.”

“His name’s Heero Yuy,” Wufei barked impatiently, pacing Heero’s living room and tightening his sweaty grip on the handset. “His boat was hijacked.”

“You’re certain of this?”

“I heard voices in the background and sounds of him being attacked. I know he fought back. There were at least two men on the boat with him, that much I’m sure of.”

“What’s the name of his boat?”

“The _Zero_.” Wufei rattled off a basic description of the yacht and gave them Heero’s original itinerary. “He was planning to be gone three days. I’m housesitting for him.”

“So you’re at his residence right now, Mr. Chang?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll send someone over. It would be helpful if we had a photo of him, and the boat itself as a point of reference.” After a few more minutes, Wufei rang off and wandered to the glass patio door. He leaned his forehead against the cold surface, closing his eyes in frustration and exhaustion. It had been the night from hell.

Quatre reacted predictably, making Wufei regret calling him to let him know. His speech sped up, voice rising in near hysteria, and he was on his way over with Rashid. The young blond executive’s voice was garbled and muddled on his cell by various sounds in the background; Wufei heard him gun the engine of his Lexus and he picked up the traffic noises and the wind whistling in through the windows. Wufei sighed; Quatre deserved to know. He adored Heero and worried about him as much as Wufei, albeit more vocally, and he had a tender heart.

Wufei stared out into the darkness, feeling it close in on him ominously. It felt surreal to trade jibes with his stoic friend one moment, and to fear for his life the next. Wufei’s insides felt raw and ugly gooseflesh broke out over his scalp and neck. Heero was the strongest, most capable, independent man he knew, the kind who went through hell and back, shook his head in amusement and told you about it over a cold beer.

Heero was trained in self defense, but he was all alone in the middle of the ocean, against two men with guns. Wufei’s mind puzzled out various desperate scenarios, but all of them lead to the painful conclusion that Heero getting away from the men unscathed was impossible.

Wufei thumped his fist against the cold glass. _No._ He wouldn’t ponder it. Heero needed his prayers and strength of will.

Quatre was a mess. Minutes later, he flung himself inside the door as soon as Wufei undid the dead bolts, practically knocking over the smaller, wiry man in his zeal. He gripped Wufei’s forearm so firmly that he grunted. “What have you heard?”

“Nothing since I called you. They’re on their way over to get some photos of Heero and the boat so they’ll have a point of reference.” Quatre closed his eyes and shuddered, drawing in a deep, strained breath through his nose. He couldn’t center himself, and Wufei wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation of Quatre deteriorated on him.

“Why did he just take off like that in the first place, ‘Fei? Three days on a boat, alone? Why couldn’t he have taken you with him?” Rashid followed Quatre inside, nodding to Wufei and re-securing the townhouse’s locks.

“He wanted some time alone,” Wufei snapped raggedly, scraping his fingernails through his slippery sheaves of black hair. “I’m not his shadow, Quat. I go along with him on dives as a safety precaution, you know that. But he wasn’t diving this time. It was none of my business why he was making the trip. I just offered to get his mail.”

“But why now? Why did he need to be alone? What was wrong with him, ‘Fei?” Quatre rubbed his nape as he paced. “Did he say anything?”

“Does he ever say anything?” Wufei countered. “Quat, he probably just needed to stretch his legs. Don’t read anything else into it right now. When we get him back, you can talk to him about it!”

Quatre’s blue eyes hardened, an expression that unsettled ‘Fei since it was so out of character. “How do you know we’ll get him back?” he accused.

“Because it’s the only thing that’s keeping me going right now,” Wufei said hoarsely, fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t put thoughts in my head that I can’t handle right now.” Wufei headed toward the kitchen. “I’m making some tea. Sit down.” Wordlessly Quatre obeyed, deflating instantly. Rashid automatically took the chair beside the couch, joining the men in their vigil.

 

*

The princes’ royal suite was tranquil and nearly silent, cocooning its lone occupant in pristine comfort.

Zech’s blue eyes snapped open and sparked with lightning. His white blond hair crackled with the same energy as he propelled himself from the bed pod.

_DUO!_

He’d felt something was wrong, even in his dreamless sleep, an atmospheric shift that was missing its most important variable. He couldn’t feel his brother’s thoughts, something that only happened when he wasn’t in range. Zechs pondered his options as he darted from the suite and swam into the long corridor.

Of course his brother had to have left the dome. Zechs was as certain of this as he was that the moon rose at night; Duo had been too quiet lately, and he abhorred being stifled.

_I’m going to throttle him with his hair,_ Zechs fumed as he made his way to the palace armory. He was grateful to find it empty, and he navigated the large storage cell with a dim lantern until he found what he was looking for. Zechs strapped the compact harpoon to his wrist, a twin to his brother’s, and he took along a small coronet that his father’s weapons master had created for Sanq’s militia. It was inlaid with glowing green light pods and would provide better illumination in the depths. It felt heavy against his brow when he donned it, but it would come in handy.

As he swam past his father’s master chamber, he gave pause. Zechs knew he should wake him and let him know his suspicions; their father would dispatch a contingent of guards to search for Duo, once he roared himself hoarse. He disabused himself of that notion quickly. That would take too long, certainly longer than it would for him to make his way out of the grotto on his own.

Zechs headed toward the galley, thinking to bring along something to eat. Duo would no doubt be ravenous from his journey, and he’d be more likely to get caught rummaging in the food stores in his zeal.

_Now where do you think **you’re** going?_ Zechs froze, then turned toward the familiar voice. He sighed in resignation as Noin watched him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

_It doesn’t matter where I’m going. Don’t keep me._

_You’re not getting away that easily._

_I have to find Duo._

_Of course it’s about Duo; when isn’t it?_ she asked bitterly.

_Don’t start…_ Her sapphire blue eyes measured him, taking in his weaponry.

_You think he’s in danger?_

_He’s out by himself, in the middle of the night without telling anyone. Father confined him for three days and assumes he’s staying in the dome._

_Bless his foolish heart._

_NOIN! You’ll show him respect!_

_Hush! And you’ve said as much yourself, whenever Duo’s given him the slip. Your father’s a good, noble man, but he has his hands full with your brother._

_It’s fine for me to think that. Not you._

_I was out of line,_ she apologized. 

_I have to go._ She automatically followed him from the galley to the rear alcove, one of the only exits from the dome not flanked by guards. _Get back to your room, I don’t want anyone wondering where you are, too._

_That’s a shame, then. Lead the way._ He whirled on her, electricity burning from his eyes again.

_Like hell!_ he flared, closing the gap between them and grabbing her wrist. _It’s too dangerous! Duo’s my responsibility, not yours!_

_Duo’s the youngest member of the royal family, and I serve my king. That **does** make him my responsibility._ She wrested her wrist from his grip and snatched the harpoon from his opposite hand.  
‘  
 _HEY!_

_I’m a better shot than you, remember? Lead,_ she continued, beckoning him to move ahead of her. Zechs fumed as he undid the sturdy bolt and swam down the chute. He felt her behind him and mentally cursed.

_I heard that…_

_You’re worse than he is, sometimes. Honestly._

_Thank you._ Noin’s tail whipped in rapid, sharp, graceful arcs as she easily kept up with Zechs. The lights of the dome dwindled behind them as they made their way through the sparsely populated grotto, and Noin felt a sense of foreboding.

_He’s all right._

_Of course he is,_ he snapped.

_I wasn’t asking a question._

She made no further attempts to comfort him, and her jaw was set as they navigated east, cutting a wide berth around caves recessed into the ocean floor, obscured by a fog of ink. Noin read his mind again as she noticed his eyes flaring again.

_He’d never go there._

_I’d kill him, even if she didn’t harm a hair on his head._ Anger bubbled in Zechs’ blood like lava. _Murdering cracken…_ Old memories made Zechs taste metal and hatred churned his gut.

_You can’t choose your family._ Noin reached out briefly to squeeze his hand; her grip was strong from years of handling different weapons, refuting his earlier claim that his trek was too dangerous for her. Despite her slender build, Noin was as capable as any soldier of Sanq’s troops. He squeezed her hand back. For one brief, idle moment, Zechs eyed her short, black hair and regretted her cutting it, but she was still beautiful. Her mother braided it in several slender plaits when they were merely squirts; he used to love twining his fingers in them when they were juveniles, merely playing at being lovemates.

Zechs didn’t have time to ponder how things between them had changed.

*

The boat was moving; Duo narrowly avoided being pulled into the rudder’s blades as it roared to life. The rush of water blew him back, catching him in the boat’s wake. Duo sputtered as water tunneled up his nostrils, creating a sharp sting in contrast to the cooler night air.

He sank back into the depths out of habit, feeling safer in his native environment, but he gave pause as he noticed something large dropping into the deep several yards away.

_What’s that…a man?_ A rush of bubbles surrounded him as he descended, and Duo didn’t like how limp he looked, not making any effort to swim or propel himself.

Duo had never seen a surface dweller up close; his earliest memories of his mother were all after her Change. Like any other denizen of his father’s kingdom, he’d heard grim tales of merfolk encounters with air breathers and their boats, nets and toxic pollutants.

Zechs would warn him away from this one, Duo was certain of it. Whenever they spoke of Duo’s mother, a cloak of sadness descended over his brother, and Milliardo bade him tersely not to speak of her. Neither of them would indulge his fascination with the surface world, something that piqued him.

But Duo’s gut clenched with fear and concern. The man appeared helpless and in a bad way. Duo’s conscience nagged at him.

He couldn’t desert him, despite Zechs’ likely anger with him. Duo darted through the water, swimming against the current of the departing boat, and he reached out, grasping the unconscious man’s arm. His skin felt firm and supple, not unlike his own. Duo gathered him close, wrapping his arms around his chest. The man’s limp bulk cleaved to him as he swam, a task made slightly more difficult with only his tail unencumbered.

Duo couldn’t hear the pulse and rush of breath from the man’s lips, which appeared slightly blue. Panic seized him.

_You can’t breathe, can you?_ Duo gritted his teeth and shot toward the surface. He broke through, gasping in great gulps of air to reacquaint himself with it, and he kept his burden’s head above water as best as he could.

_You look horrible._ Duo wondered why the man wasn’t responding to him, not realizing that humans weren’t telepathic or empathic like merfolk. They’d evolved past the need for verbal speech, since the ocean muted sounds without the use of vocal sythesizers, an obsolete technology. Milliardo banned their use in Sanq’s domain following unfortunate encounters with surface dwellers, forbidding them entrance into the grotto.

Duo noticed various minor details about the man in his arms. He smelled strange despite his immersion in salt water; his scent was…earthy, somehow, with a faint hint of musk that wasn’t unpleasant. His wet lashes were dark and long, and he appeared to be young. He had a square jaw and high cheekbones, and there was something stubborn about the set of his mouth, even while he was out cold. Duo read strength in his face and he wondered what color his eyes were. His hair was shorter than Noin’s and it felt soft where it tickled Duo’s jaw.

_You don’t look dangerous, for a human,_ Duo quipped. _But you need to breathe, y’know._ Duo lightly patted his cheek. _Hey. C’mon. Breathe for me._ He patted his chest, urging him. _You’re frightening me, here._ Unease crept over him.

_Have to get air into him, or get the water out!_ Duo searched his memories, mind racing. 

Something Noin told him once came back to him. _Air breathers need oxygen. They use tanks of it when they submerse themselves in our domain, Duo. That’s what allows them to inhabit it when they dive down here. They don’t always plan their visits well, though. I can’t tell you how many of their bloated bodies I’ve seen floating by during warmer lunar cycles because they were foolish. Their brains starve without air._

_They have means of pushing air into their lungs. It’s called artificial respiration…_

Now he remembered. Noin called it a “kiss of life.”

Duo rearranged him in his grip so that he was facing him, even though it was awkward. He attempted to make him tip his head back, but it kept flopping forward. _Cooperate, damn it!_ He tugged him and made him float more on his back, still holding him tightly enough to lend him his own buoyancy. Duo grasped that firm jaw carefully and pried his lips open with his thumb. _Open wide, human. Get ready to breathe._ He covered his mouth with his own and expelled a gusting breath directly into it. Nothing. He tried again and heard the air traveling down his throat, but Duo didn’t know if it was having an effect on him. He leaned in close to his face and felt no warm air coming from his nostrils.

That’s when it hit him. _Gotta close up one set of holes and breathe into the other! How am I gonna do this?_ Duo struggled for a better vantage point, trying to manipulate his limp body again. Finally, he managed to crook his arm around his back and this time, his victim cooperated, head tipping back just enough. Heero pinched his nose shut firmly and breathed forcefully into the still-open mouth. One gust. Two. Three. He paused, then tried again. Paused. Then again. His hope was flagging, and the man still looked so pale, and his skin felt so cold. Duo grew sick with dread, and genuine fear twisted his gut.

_BREATHE!_ Duo was slightly dizzy from his attempts, but he gave him one final, even breath, hoping his attempts would warm him, if nothing else…

“ _Grrblplp…bluuuurrrggghh_ …*kaffkaff*… _UUUURRGGH!_ Duo whipped his head back at the first strangled gasps that worked their way from the man’s throat. He was choking! Duo tried to adjust him again as his body flailed and jerked with his efforts to breathe, and suddenly he vomited up mouthfuls of water and bile.

“Ugh,” Duo said aloud, surprising himself. He’d never heard the sound of his own voice before, and its thrum felt odd in his throat. His tail backpedaled slightly, nudging them away from the floating puddle of sick. Duo gently wiped his face and nose, and he grew alarmed at the way his newfound friend began to struggle against him. “Uh-uh,” he grunted, trying to get Heero to listen, but he couldn’t form the necessary words.

“Nnnngh…hhnnnggh…” The man’s teeth started chattering and he shivered against Duo, who then held him more tightly in an attempt to comfort him.

_It’s all right,_ he sent to him, wishing he could hear him. Duo peered down into his face as he drowsily opened his eyes.

Deep blue. Duo’s night vision was limited on the surface, but in the moonlight he made out that much and he focused on the way his pupils dilated as he began to focus. His eyes jerked back and forth, and he kept jerking his face away from the water.

His eyes finally landed on Duo’s, and his breath caught in his throat. _It’s all right,_ Duo repeated soothingly.

“Where am I? Oh, God…tell me, where…” His panicked demand was interrupted by another spate of coughing.

_You were hurt. I have you now._ He still clung to Duo instinctively, despite that he hadn’t given him an explanation yet.

“Head…hurts.”

_I know. You’ll be all right._

“Where’s my boat? Where the hell’s my boat?”

_Gone._ Duo began to slowly propel them in the direction of myriad lights in the distance, assuming it was the shoreline. _Rest, now._

“Who are you?” Heero croaked. “Please tell me!”

“Duo.” That much he could manage. Even the sound of his own name spoken aloud made it seem foreign to him.

“Heero,” he told him, and his teeth began chattering again. “Call me Heero.”

“Heero,” Duo murmured. It was nice; it seemed to suit him. Duo was backstroking and had Heero in an over-the-chest hold, and he felt his heart hammering through his cold flesh. Duo regretted how exposed his friend was, knowing his outcomes were just as dire from the cold as they were from oxygen loss. _I’ll take care of you._

“Thank you…f’r takin’ care of…” His voice cut off and his eyes drifted shut. Duo’s heart pounded and adrenaline flowed through his veins.

“HEERO!” he cried. Desperation lent him inhuman speed, and Duo’s tail whipped up froth in his wake as he swam toward the shore.

*

The motor life boat was small but fast, cutting neatly through the black waves.

“No sign of any boat yet. It’s a yacht we’re looking for, huh?”

“The _Zero._ It’s not a big craft, just a little weekender.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a boat for a three-day trip.”

“Somebody thought it was worth hijacking,” the officer grunted as he stared into the darkness. “I don’t want to tell this guy’s friends to give up hope.”

“That’s all they have left,” the captain pointed out grimly. “It’s not up to us to rip that out of their hands while there’s still a chance. I want to find this guy. And I want to find his boat jackers pretty bad, get them off the grid so they don’t do this to anyone else.” Overhead, a helicopter drowned out their conversation, its blades scattering the ocean’s spray over the boat’s hull. The occupants of the boat squinted in the glare of the search lights as they scanned the radius, but they weren’t optimistic.

Overhead, the chopper pilot exclaimed in surprise. “Look!” He pointed to a flicker of movement roughly two miles from the life boat. “I’ve got something down there.” He radioed the boat and signaled with his search light. 

Duo squinted as the blinding lights hit him, and he raised his arm as much as Heero’s weight would allow, beckoning to them. He was exhausted and didn’t know how many miles he swam, but his lungs and muscles burned and his throat was so parched it stung from breathing the cold air.

“There’s two of them,” the pilot muttered. “One’s carrying the other one.”

“Can’t be one of the hijackers?”

“We don’t know that it’s not. Maybe he changed his mind, or maybe his partner decided he didn’t want to share the boat or their take.”

The chopper blades stirred up the waves as the helicopter descended, and the lifeboat closed in on the two men.

“We’re from the United States Coast Guard,” the captain’s voice boomed on the boat’s loud speaker. A second crew member on deck bellowed additional greeting using a megaphone.

“We’re here to help you! We’re coming to get you! Are there only two of you?” Duo held his hand protectively over his face, sputtering at the spray that pelted his cheeks. He had no reply ready for them. “Can you give us your status?”

“HEERO!” Duo cried out. He waved to them again. “HEERO!”

“What’d he say?”

“It sounded like Heero! Isn’t that the guy’s name?”

“We hit paydirt,” the captain said with a grin. “Pull him in. Get a med kit, stat!”

Duo and Heero drifted in wait, and Duo felt relieved but was still fraught with worry for Heero’s poor response to his voice and telepathic communication. He could feel a shadow of his thoughts, somehow, not words so much as emotions, but it wasn’t the sophisticated aura projected by merfolk.

_They’ll take care of you now._ Duo peered down into Heero’s face one last time, and he leaned down and kissed his frigid cheek. _You’ll be okay._ Duo felt a shift in him, and he opened drowsy blue eyes, finally allowing Duo to see their full color in the glaring lights.

They were a spectacular, deep blue, almost the same cobalt of Duo’s scales, with a hint of ultramarine and deeper green. “Duo,” Heero rasped.

“Heero,” he replied, offering him a shaky smile. The boat approached slowly, and Duo swam toward its starboard side.

“Let us come to you!” the captain bade him, but Duo was desperate to get him aboard. Heero’s flesh was freezing and his heartbeat was more faint. He could barely feel his pulse where Heero’s neck pressed against Duo’s shoulder. The boat motored to a stop, and two crew men approached the ladder. “Relax, we’ve got him.” They reached toward them, and Duo reluctantly urged Heero toward them with some difficulty; Heero’s hands had held limply onto Duo, tangling in his long hair, but now they clung to him suddenly, and he fought against being taken from his only support. “Easy! We have you!” They hauled Heero over the side and onto the deck. “Christ, he’s in bad shape!” They called out to Duo, “Come on, let us pull you up…HEY!” 

_Goodbye, Heero._ Duo waved limply and ducked beneath the waves.

“Holy…he went under!”

“We need a man in a wet suit, pronto! We can’t lose him!” The crew sprang into action and they radioed the chopper.

*

Duo pushed himself, descending and reacquainting himself with the water. It felt so good flooding his lungs with needed moisture, and he felt his strength returning, but he was still fatigued. The deep welcomed him back like a lover, and his ears picked up the familiar song of whales. He had several miles to go before he reached the grotto.

Belatedly he felt an odd stinging sensation on his hand. His eyes grew round in horror. _Blood._ A long gash marred his knuckles, staining his pale flesh red.

He swam hell for leather toward the grotto, praying he was within range of help, regretting like never before that he was all alone.

*

Une stirred awake in her den as she heard three of her minions propel themselves from the mouth of the cave. She knew their comings and goings intimately through their psychic link, one she shared with all of the predators of the deep. She stretched her tentacles, unfurling them as she expanded her awareness and communed with them.

_Blood, mistress. One juvenile._ She huffed, puzzled as to why they sounded so enthusiastic about it. She sighed as she braided her long, chestnut brown hair.

_Live-mater,_ they added smugly. Her long, slender fingers paused, and a crafty smile curled her thin, cruel lips.

There was only one young merboy foolish enough to be out so far from the dome in the middle of the night. Things had taken an interesting turn, indeed, she pondered.

She didn’t deter them from their pursuit. She wouldn’t discourage it, but she would stop them before they took him down. She had a vested interest in the youngling, and it wouldn’t do to lose him as a bargaining chip.

Not yet.


	5. This Thing of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo turns from savior to prey.
> 
> Author’s Note: Thank you. That’s all.

Duo’s muscles burned and he began to feel the drag of current push against him. The lights of the dome were still so far away, barely visible as he swam through masses of thick seaweed and navigated the divide between corridors of hardened magma. The normally peaceful darkness of the deep felt oppressive in the absence of silver stars and misty clouds…

He had to get home. Zechs would surely kill him, or whatever was left of him once their father finished with him, and Duo felt a rash of shame creep over him as he remembered his last exchange with his long-suffering brother. Zechs meant well; Duo acknowledged it readily enough, but it wasn’t enough to learn from his brother’s mistakes or grudgingly obey his orders and follow wherever he led. It was Duo’s prerogative as his younger foster brother to make him wish he’d never been spawned. That was uncomplicated enough, wasn’t it?

Unsettling fear and caution replaced the relief he felt at reaching the clearing beyond the walls as Duo emerged. His scales prickled and his fins twitched as he slowed his trek, expanding his awareness of his surroundings. The only hint of light was the reflection of the luminous bodies of a swarm of jellyfish. He narrowly avoided their long tentacles, not wanting their acidic stings as a souvenir of his night outside the dome, but he shivered as though they had grazed his flesh anyway.

He was being watched. Duo was certain of it.

_You don’t want to follow me,_ he sent to no one in particular. _You go about your business, and I’ll go about mine._ All he heard was a low rumble of the ocean floor beneath him, and Duo wondered if Sanq would suffer more seaquakes during the next moon or so. Memories of the last one that he remembered from his childhood made his sojourn in the darkness more ominous, and his heartbeat tripled.

_If you’re smart, you’ll leave me alone,_ Duo added carefully, wanting to sound blunt, yet nonthreatening.

_If **you** were smart, you wouldn’t have shown up to our little party all by your lonesome, bait._ Duo made a face and sputtered at the faint flavor of ink that suddenly pervaded the water, and he felt nausea churning his gut at the guttural voice in his head.

_Mersharks! Blast!_ They were too close for comfort, less than a quarter mile away, and Duo cursed his own lack of perception for letting them get the drop on him. Dimly he remembered his father’s advice – too little, too late – not to swim blind through the murky corridors when he had no way of knowing what was at the end of it.

_He looks young. Nice and tender, to me. He’ll be good eating…_

_The hell I will!_

There were three of them, and they showed no signs of the exhaustion that was weighing down his limbs and tail. He cursed them for their innate inability to stop moving, making them nearly unsusceptible to fatigue. Two of them were adult bulls, and the juvenile was still a head taller than Duo was. Their flesh was the characteristic lilac gray, translucent enough that Duo believed he could see the blood pulsing in their spidery blue veins; they no doubt craved his to mingle with it now that they had a taste, thanks to Duo’s betraying wound.

_You could make this easier on yourself, guppy._ The largest of the three bared serrated teeth at him that craved the feel of his throat ripping apart between them.

_What on earth would I do that for?_

*

 

Zechs swam hell-for-leather with Noin hot on his tail. She fought to stay beside him to avoid drinking his wake and the flood of bubbles that threatened to push her back. Her muscles burned with their frantic trek through the cavern as they left the grotto behind them.

_He’s in trouble; I know he’s gotten himself into a mess. I feel it in my damned bones!_

_Calm down, Wind._ If he was surprised by the use of her old pet name for him, he didn’t give himself away. You won’t feel him if you fall apart now. She referred to their empathic bond, still as strong as that between full-blooded brothers. The sudden lack of Duo’s presence in his mind when he deserted their chamber woke Zechs as sharply as a slap; even in sleep, a part of him remained linked to him, sometimes to Zechs’ frustration and disgust.

As if on cue, Zechs felt panic stronger than his own swamp him, and his heart suddenly beat in triplicate. He felt an aura of sickening, stomach-knotting fear and futility that was completely out of character for his brother. _DUO!_ Zechs swam furiously for the reefs, hoping he wasn’t too late. Beside him, Noin was already fiddling with the harpoon, arming it and loading it with the deadly, razor-pronged darts. Her composure was grim and she braced herself for whatever they might find when they caught up to the errant mer-prince.

Zechs’ fear slowly shifted to caution, then anger as he caught sight of a familiar chestnut braid. The illumination was scant to none, but Zechs could also make out three shadowy forms closing in on him. _Get that thing ready!_ he barked.

_Already done,_ Noin snapped as she raised her arm and projected the harpoon toward Duo’s pursuers. But the three sharks were quicker than she could have anticipated. Two of them whipped their way around Duo, mere yards away, and the three of them began to circle him, closing in on him for the kill. It was the nature of mersharks and their brethren to surround their prey before taking them down.

_Hold still. It will only hurt for a second._

_No. YOU hold still._ Duo feinted left, heading in the direction opposite of what the predator expected. He felt rather than saw the third shark coming up behind him. Gathering all of his flagging strength, Duo bucked, landing the equivalent of a donkey kick in his foe’s craw. He heard the other two curse and they pinned him with glaring red eyes.

_That wasn’t very nice. Lucky for you I don’t mind when my food fights back. Makes you taste that much sweeter, meat._

_Lucky for me?_ Duo wriggled away from him, brandishing the wrist harpoon. The creature only grinned at him.

_Well, lucky for **me** ,_ the shark emphasized smugly.

No. Lucky for them. Duo discharged the dart, aiming it straight into his mouth. The mershark released a strangled growl, clutching its throat with clawed fingers. Its body writhed and arched and he recoiled, revealing the back of his neck. The dart had worked its way through his flesh, releasing gouts of his purplish black ichor. _Now who’s meat, meat?_ His companions hesitated; Duo was a prime specimen of live-mating youth and no doubt succulent, but their friend was now easy prey, and they were opportunists.

The decision was taken out of their hands. _YOU! Don’t even THINK about it!_

_ZECHS!_

_So help me, I should leave you to be eaten next time!_

_Next time?! What about THIS time?_

_The harpoon, Zechs! Fire the harpoon!_ Noin scolded. His ice blue eyes sparked with barely suppressed lightning and his long, white-gold hair rippled around him like a shroud. The sharks paled, but their bluster outweighed their fear or sense of self-preservation. The youngest of the three sneered, baring his sharp teeth and he swiveled around Duo in a sharp arc. Before he could blink, he lashed out and bit Duo in the neck, sinking into his flesh with a moan of satisfaction.

_Soooooo sweeeeeeet…_ Duo didn’t waste time screaming, instead thrashing and bucking to release himself from the source of the searing sting at his neck. The creature’s red eyes rolled shut in rapture and lust as the warm liquid filled his maw and trickled down his throat. Noin watched in horror as a river of Duo’s precious blood stained the water around him crimson. The third shark moved to seize Duo’s arms and wrenched them painfully behind him.

_Fuck this,_ Zechs tsked casually, but Noin knew his calm tone was a prelude to a soul-staining violence and retribution that was fearsome to witness.

 

Far from the fray, Une watched in amusement, drinking in her minions’ confusion and fear and relishing the death throes of the third. He deserved to die, if the youngling could take the advantage over him so easily. She had no time for empathy, nor patience for failure. She contemplated the older, blond prince, musing that her nephew had grown into a striking adult male. Despite the vestige of fondness – or whatever passed for it that wormed its way into her cold breast – that she felt for him, she didn’t have a vested interest in Zechs, not yet. Milliardo’s heir wasn’t a threat to her until her brother’s likely – eventual – demise. 

Zechs flight to confront Duo’s captors was beautiful to behold, muscles rippling and churning the water around him into a wild froth. His tail glowed in the pale, greenish light emitted by the coronet on his brow, which was outshone by the sparks shooting from his eyes. Noin’s hair stood on end just watching him, let alone from feeling the faint static from being within close range. The mersharks mocked him.

_That puny thing will hardly -_ The one holding Duo fast assumed Zechs would use the harpoon; that would be his last mistake. Zechs’ hand flew out and he glowed as he gathered up currents in his fist, borrowing from the creatures in their realm who possessed a natural charge as their means of defense. The blue ball of lightning danced in his palm before he clenched his fist around it. He drove it forward, his aim true as he punched his way through the center of the startled bull’s chest. His body jerked and whipped in brisk, sharp spasms, eyes bulging from his head. Zechs’ face was a cold mask of indifference and satisfaction.

_When I say “Don’t even think about it,” chances are I mean it._ He didn’t let go, even after the remaining shark pulled Duo free from his grasp instinctively, more for his own preservation so that the charge wouldn’t conduct itself through Duo to him, as well. He clutched the auburn-haired prince possessively to his chest and wrapped his long plait around his fist, exposing his neck.

Zechs wasn’t through with his companion. His veins stood out in sharp relief, bulging beneath his skin. Zechs pulled his hand from his chest cavity, gripping his grisly prize, a heart that clearly had no role in the choices the mershark made on a daily basis. The gaping flesh was cauterized from the heat of the blast, and the blood flowed out in narrow rivulets that trailed behind the rapidly sinking body. Behind him, Noin paled but swam resolutely beside him.

_I’m not afraid of you!_ the creature claimed, backpedaling and still holding Duo, whose struggles had weakened from the loss of blood and his exhaustive journey.

_Then obviously you haven’t heard the word on the reef,_ Duo boasted weakly. _No one messes with my brother. Do yourself a favor, and just say goodbye to your sorry tail._ The creature hissed in annoyance at his meal’s refusal to beg for freedom and brandished his claws at the sight of the strangled, yet impish smile, the mocking laughter in those cursed violet eyes.

_You say goodbye! Say hello to my innards once I pick my teeth with your puny bo-_ He howled in pain as his next jerk of Duo’s braid resulted in stabbing pain across his palm. He stared disbelievingly at the long, ugly gash left from the small silver blade that protruded from the sloppy plait.

It was just the distraction Noin needed. _Duo, DOWN! NOW!_ She discharged the harpoon neatly, as always a crack shot. The dart struck the creature in the bridge of the nose, and his howls became a sickening gurgle in his throat as shards of cartilage shot back into his brain cavity. Even in death, however, his hand still convulsively gripped Duo’s hair. _URK! Leggo! Damn it, let GO!_

Noin shot forward and grasped Duo’s wounded hand and struggled to pull him free. Zechs relieved her of the burden and shocked the creatures offending fingers loose with a low-voltage spark, making them spasm open. Duo was released and he sagged gratefully against Noin’s neck, huffing and panting for breath. The sound was stertorous and labored, and he was dangerously pale.

_Poor, stupid child! Spoiled brat!_ she scolded soundly, scowling thunderously into the drowsy violet eyes. But her touch was tender as she probed the wound in his neck.

_Didn’t…know you cared. And Noin? Could y…you…turn it down? Don’…think…rest of the reef…heard y…_ He mercifully blacked out. The hectic energy faded from Zechs’ eyes and they filled with true fear.

_Don’t die. Don’t you dare die on me, you ungrateful little bastard. Father will kill you if you die on me, and he’ll kill me next. Do you hear me? Stay, Duo. Stay with me._ Zechs forced the panic from his thoughts and he collected Duo from Noin’s embrace, since he was physically stronger.

But more than anything, he needed the reassurance of his brother’s weak heartbeat and slow pulse to give him hope. They sped toward the grotto and never looked back at the mangled gray bodies sinking into the crags of volcanic rock.

_Don’t die on me, little brother._

*

 

“Stay with us, Mr. Yuy. Do you remember what happened? You’re in a hospital.” Heero dimly wondered why the voice above him thought he would question that, between the prick of the IV in his arm and the cannula crammed up his nostrils. But the woman staring down into his face was kind and concerned and her touch was gentle as she felt the pulse in his neck.

“The Coast Guard crew said you were in bad shape when they pulled you out of the water. Thank goodness they found you, huh? This isn’t the big fish story you wanted when you went out on that boat, was it?” Heero didn’t know whether to laugh out of politeness or tell her to fuck off, but she meant well. He felt a blood pressure cuff slip around his arm and grunted at the uncomfortable squeeze. The blankets wrapped around him were scratchy and rough, and his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

“Can you tell me your birthdate?”

“F-f-february,” he managed. His teeth clacked together, and the effort to speak made his jaw ache. His eyelid was pried open further and a penlight beamed a blinding pinpoint of glare into his pupil.

“Good, dilation’s good. Still think we’ve got a concussion.”

“Feel’s…like…got hit by a…fuckin’ Mack Truck.” One of the male EMTs beside her chuckled as they lifted his gurney and rolled it down the ramp of the ambulance. It rumbled beneath him as they carried him through the loading dock and in through the emergency room doors. The relative quiet of the night was replaced by the noise and buzz of a busy ward and too many smells for his nose to process, some clinical, some antiseptic, and others resulting from bodily fluids or patients’ overindulgence. He closed his eyes as the rapid flash of passing beneath so many of the long, fluorescent ceiling lights as they wheeled him to his waiting cubicle began to dizzy him.

“You have hypothermia. We’re going to warm you up for the moment, Mr. Yuy…”

“Heero,” he insisted.

“Okay, Heero. We’re going to give you some fluids, both through this IV and a little sweet, hot drink to get your metabolism going, and we’re going to lay you under a warming blanket. Once your temperature and color start to look a little better, we’re going to have our X-ray techs come in and give us a few films of your ribs, okay?”

“Y-your th-the b-boss,” he offered. His arms shivered and quaked, negating his attempts to shrug. “What…about my boat?”

“I really couldn’t tell you.” She didn’t indicate whether or not she actually knew, which burned his ass.

“C-cameras,” he insisted. “Got my cameras.”

“I’m sorry, Heero.” She stalled conversation momentarily when she prodded his tongue with a depressor and shone her light down his throat.

Over the next hour he was propped more comfortably and laid under a warming blanket and checked regularly for improvements to his color, temperature and pulse. The pulse ox monitor on his finger annoyed him; he had to keep reminding himself not to try to scratch his brow with that hand after he accidentally smacked himself with it. Heero was grateful that the privacy curtain had been pulled around his bed on both sides. He couldn’t help musing how homely it was; the local hospital was an old building in need of refurbishing and was in the process of an expansion. He swirled the dregs of a cooling cup of bland cider in the Styrofoam cup. His head and ribcage throbbed painfully, but he was relieved to finally be warm and free of the worst of the clammy chill. His toes were still numb, and his skin itched all over as his blood circulation regulated itself. The stiffly starched hospital gown wasn’t helping matters any.

“Excuse me, could you lower the bed, please? My head really hurts. Could you give me something for it?”

“No. I know you’re having a bad time, but we need to do your head x-rays and we don’t want to dose you with anything until we know how bad your injuries are.” Heero heaved a deep sigh that made his ribs ache.

“Right. Thanks.” _For nothing._ The nurse made her way back toward the desk and made some notes on his chart. Heero continued to watch the flow of feet moving back and forth from beneath the edge of the curtain.

Quatre’s familiar voice reached him, soft and plaintive. _Is he this way? Can we see him? How is he?_

“Quat,” Heero called out hoarsely. The blond sounded worried, even slightly frantic, and Heero steeled himself for what he knew would be an emotional greeting.

But Quatre surprised him. “Are you decent, Heero?” his nurse inquired. “I have some of your friends here to see you.”

“Sure.” She pulled back the curtain, and sure enough, Quatre’s face was the first thing he saw, and it nearly broke his heart. Quatre’s slender hand covered his mouth, and his blue eyes filled with tears at the sight of Heero’s bruises and cuts, at how small he looked hunched beneath the too-big blue robe printed in garish triangles.

“Hey, Quat.” He waved limply and Quatre didn’t hesitate, joining him at his bedside.

“Be careful with him, he’s pretty banged up, particularly his scalp,” the nurse admonished. Her words were cut off as Wufei materialized behind her.

“How is he?”

“He’s up and around, but don’t wear him out.”

“Thank you,” he said tersely, and he flanked Heero’s opposite side. Quatre had helped himself to a chair and had reached over the bed rail to hold Heero’s hand. He squeezed it tightly in his cool grip.

“We were so worried.” He longed to hug him, even though Heero would no doubt flinch out from under it the way he usually did when Quatre was too effusive. But Quat was handling him with kid gloves, bowing his head briefly to pinch the bridge of his nose. Heero could have sworn the gesture masked furtively wiping his eyes.

“Hey, sport,” Wufei offered casually, but Heero could tell he was shaken up, too, when he took his other hand. “Couldn’t just let me have one quiet night in without you, huh? There’s Heero, always gotta bring the drama. Most guys call me up and say ‘Hey, ‘Fei, how ‘bout pizza and a game? Wanna shoot some pool?’ Not you. Heero calls, tells me he’s taking off so he can have some ‘space,’” he emphasized, holding up finger quotes, “whatever the fuck that means, since it isn’t like we smother you, anyway, and then scares me out of my fucking wits when I hear him being boatjacked. Christ,” he snorted. “There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that?”

“So you’ve told me.”

“You’re not a good listener.”

“I listen. Doesn’t mean I do what you tell me or give a damn half the time, but I listen.” ‘Fei grunted and shook his head, then tightened his grip in his hand.

“Asshole.”

“Sure. Heero’s got jokes,” Quatre murmured before his voice failed. “So…scared…”

“Ssshhhhhhh,” Heero soothed as his friend bowed his forehead against the bedrail and wept quietly.

“Damn it, there go the waterworks. Quat, he’s okay, all right? It’s all right, Heero’s not going anywhere.”

“My legs won’t let me,” Heero shot back easily, but his dark brows drew together at the almost rhythmic quake of Quatre’s shoulders, and his hot tears dripped onto the back of Heero’s hand before he gently disengaged it from his to stroke Quatre’s nape. “Calm down, Quat. It’s okay. It’s okay, all right? I’m in shitty shape, but I’m all in one piece.”

“Thank God,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Wufei agreed, and his voice became a soothing lull. “We know. He isn’t leaving us. If he had, I would have had to kick his ass. I might do that anyway, once you’re well.”

“Have fun with that.”

“Drink some more of this.” Wufei handed him the remaining cider at first, then drew it back and sniffed. “Smells like piss.”

“That’ll make me wanna drink more of it. Thanks.”

“Just looking out for my main man.”

Quatre raised his red, blotchy face and pinned them with watery eyes. “What are you two talking about?”

“They made me drink this stuff while it was hot. Wanted to get me going a little faster and warm up.” Quatre reached over him and took the cup. He sniffed it and actually risked a sip.

“Ugh. Right.” He threw the cup dispassionately into the trash bucket. “First chance that they clear you, I’m bringing you some Starbucks.”

“You and Heero. How can you stand that shit, let alone pay that much money for it?”

“Philistine,” Quatre pronounced, wiping his face on the cuff of his expensive, black suede bomber jacket.

“Seriously. Still don’t see what you see in that crap.”

“I’d rather have a shot of Jack Daniels right about now. Head’s killing me.”

“They haven’t brought you anything for the pain?” Quatre scowled and looked around as though he planned to interrogate the first nurse he could reach.

“X-rays and lab work,” Heero shrugged. “And the usual ten thousand delays. I hate coming here.”

“I’d be worried if you liked coming to the ER,” Wufei muttered. “Don’t do this again any time soon. Place gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“We passed a guest bathroom in the hall on the way here that was absolutely foul. The smell could have dropped a moose at ten feet. I kid you not. The housekeeping here is deplorable.”

“It’s the middle of the night. The housekeepers are probably in the basement, playing poker. What’d you expect?” Wufei sighed deeply and rose. “When are they letting you out?”

“Probably in a few hours, but they won’t let me drive. Kind of a moot point, since that isn’t how I got here.”

“I’ll send a car. I’ll have my phone turned on, Heero. And ‘Fei or I can pick up your ‘scrips at the pharmacy if you need us to.”

“And check your mail for a couple of days if you’re feeling too much like shit to leave the house,” Wufei added. “I was gonna do that, anyway.”

“Thanks, guys. I mean it.” Quatre reached down and squeezed his hand again.

“Do this again and I’ll smack you. _Whack!_ ” he pantomimed, then slapped the bedrail for emphasis. “Get better.” He blew Heero a kiss, and Wufei gave him a cavalier wave. But Heero could tell by the hesitant way that Wufei turned back once more to make sure that he was okay before they left that he was really rattled.


	6. Head Above Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo has to answer for his actions, just in time to get into more trouble.
> 
> Author’s Note: I’m losing some momentum with this fic due to writer’s block and my other more prolific fandom stories. Updates will be slow and inconsistent. Sorry. – C.

Duo felt slightly humiliated as Noin and Zechs hauled him between them toward the gates. The eel sentries failed to hide their shock at seeing the young princes outside the dome, as neither of them ever cleared them to leave. One of them paled slightly as he saw the open wound in Duo’s neck.

“Prince Zechs… sire, what happened?” He noticed how listless Duo’s eyes were and how his tail barely fluttered as they carried him. The wound in his neck leaked copious amounts of blood, making them fear that sharks would track the scent. But closer inspection of the jagged tears in his flesh revealed that was precisely what happened.

Zechs had little patience for the guards’ polite inquiries. “Let us in. He needs care, quickly.” The thunderous look in his eyes and the way the veins strained in his jaw and neck made the guards cringe; his voice was brittle and hard in their minds. Zechs and Noin moved with purpose through the gates, hurrying toward the healing cove. Zechs laid his palm in the indentation of an ornately carved plate made of volcanic rock that was slightly recessed in the wall. Five jeweled lights that responded to each of his fingerprints came on one by one, casting the corridor in a faint glow. A low voice droned out from the wall from a hidden amplifier.

_**Purpose?** _

_**Injured,**_ Zechs explained, providing one of the few code words that allowed the denizens of the dome access to the healer’s cove. The security system was keyed to accept his voice prompts, as well, as a member of the royal family. The instruments and various narcotic potions were closely guarded; trespassers would be dealt with severely if those resources were stolen or misused.

_**Patient?** _

_**Duo.** _

_**Species?** _

_**Live-mater. Halfling.** _

_**Welcome, Prince Zechs,**_ the voice greeted him. Duo’s head lolled to the side and Zechs saw alarmingly few bubbles escaping his lips.

_Help me._ His voice sounded fain and desperate in Zech’s thoughts. He felt the mind-numbing pain, cold fear and uncertainty through the conduit of their empathy. His grip on Duo’s arm tightened and Noin looked stricken.

_Sally’s coming,_ Zechs told him casually. _She’ll make you well just in time for Father to gut you._ His words masked the fear beating in his breast. 

_Won’t be…anything left of me, anyway._

_Shut up._

Their entry into the infirmary triggered a silent paging system. Zechs and Noin heard Sally’s cool tones as she identified herself as the court physician. Her demeanor was grim as she met them inside. She took one look at Duo and darted toward the utility wall, removing a special visor from the hook. She donned it and folded down the magnifying lens before approaching the ailing prince.

_What under the waves have you gotten into now?_ Her voice was brisk and her hands gentle as she relieved Zechs of his charge. She guided him to a table covered in woven mats of seaweed. Duo automatically went limp and collapsed in a fluttering of hair and fins. _Oh, no you don’t. Duo…stay with me. I need you awake!_ Zechs flung off the helmet and let it float to the floor. He helped Sally get him upright, and he saw that Duo’s eyes were rolled back into his head. Sally adjusted the lens, lowering it over her eye. It made it look owlishly large as she began her exam. She spoke to Noin in a constant string of questions and orders.

_Needles. Over there. Where was he that a shark managed to do this to him?_

_Outside the grotto, just beyond the reef. He swam too close to the caves._

_Foolish guppy,_ she sniffed. _Sutures. Tongs._ Noin laid out the instruments and worked as her aide, holding back Duo’s long plait and scraping aside the tendrils of hair that escaped it. She went to a nearby tank and opened it, withdrawing a glass flagon filled with crimson liquid.

_He needs ichor,_ Sally explained easily. _He’s lost too much blood. It’ll have to do until his body makes more._ Noin nodded and slowly filled an impermeable membrane with the ichor and attached a long, narrow tube. Sally inserted a narrow tool into its end that resembled a sea urchin’s quill, but longer and with a hollow opening. _This will hurt, sire_ she told Duo sympathetically.

_He’s out of it,_ Zechs pointed out grimly. He still held his brother immobile, supporting his head while Sally worked to insert the shunt into his arm. To her dismay, Duo didn’t even flinch. Noin attached the membrane into a pump, tightening the vise, and she began to rhythmically depress and release the lever. The ichor flowed slowly and evenly through the tube until it reached Duo’s vein; she adjusted the setting to allow it to fortify him at a natural, even pace and to let his body adjust to the supplement.

That immediate need taken care of, Sally went about the business of probing, cleaning and stitching Duo’s wound. The saline and nutrient-rich environment they dwelled in would prove beneficial in the coming days and speed the healing of Duo’s injury. She examined the tendons and made sure the shark missed his jugular. Sally made a sound of satisfaction as she tied off the last knots of his sutures. They left behind an ugly pucker of angry red skin and black stitches, but the scars would fade nicely with time.

_There. His color’s improving. Best to let him rest for now. I’ll keep an eye on him._ Duo was stirring fitfully and moaning in discomfort. _I’ll dose him, too._

_Father will be livid._

_Worry about that later. He’ll have time to rethink his actions now that he’s away from death’s door._

_Are you kidding? He just knocked on it as nicely as you please and let himself in. The worst part is, Father will assume this is my fault._

 

*

_**The next morning…** _

_How the hell could you let this happen?_

_Father…_

_**Don’t interrupt me!** Don’t think of defying me or trying to defend your actions! What possessed you to think it was all right to strike out alone, with only Noin to accompany you out of the dome? Why didn’t you alert the guard to search for Duo? How did he get out from your chamber without you knowing?_ Zechs winced and huddled back in his seat, but he met his father’s flashing eyes levelly.

_I didn’t hear him leave. I only sensed that he was gone long after he was out of the dome, Father. Something urged me to wake up._

_You should have been more vigilant!_ His father was overwrought; Zechs knew it was futile to argue with him when he was in this state. Milliardo’s tentacles flicked back and forth periodically, a sign he was piqued. Electricity sparked from his eyes and he tugged his white beard.

_When have we ever managed to hold Duo down when he was determined to go his own way? He won’t listen to me, Father. It’s never for lack of trying. He won’t mind me._

_As your foster brother, he’s your responsibility. Make him mind you. Love him as though he were your blood._

_I do,_ Zechs informed him gravely. _That’s why I’m a at a loss._ He sighed and leaned forward in his seat. _You would have been proud of him, Father._

_I most certainly would not._

_Father…he was very brave. Three sharks had him surrounded, and it didn’t phase him. He was fighting them off and doing a decent job of it when we found him. But he was poorly armed; all he had was a wrist-shooter._ Zechs indicated the wrist harpoon lying on the table. _Those aren’t much good against an adult bull._ Milliardo shook his head, then sighed.

_What’s wrong with him?_

_He’s like his mother. Stubborn. And like Uriah,_ Zechs pointed out. Milliardo’s mouth set itself in a grim line at the mention of Duo’s late father. _Father?_

_What?_

_Are you sorry you took him in?_ Milliardo deflated noticeably and his features relaxed.

_Never._ He rose from his throne and drifted toward the large skylight across the room. His fingertips stroked the glass as he mused aloud. _I could never regret the day he came into our lives, even though I regret the circumstances. I looked into his eyes the first moment I held him, and I knew I couldn’t let him go. I could no sooner turn my back on him than I could deny you._ He shuttered the sentiment as he whipped back around to face his firstborn. _That doesn’t let you off the hook…_

_Shit…_ Zechs bit his tongue and cringed beneath his father’s stony glare.

_You’re on guard duty for the next month. Up every day at dawn. You’re also in charge of training the younglings in our ranks, weapons and evasive maneuvers. Perhaps these responsibilities will be more to your liking, since you failed to keep your brother in line._ Ironically, they both silently agreed that Zechs’ punishment would in fact be easier than trying to keep track of his brother.

_Yes, Father. May I take my leave?_

_Away with you._ Chastened, Zechs left the throne chamber and his father to his thoughts. 

Milliardo spent the better part of the afternoon contemplating an apt punishment for Duo’s transgression. His greatest crime was endangering himself, as well as leading mersharks so close to Sanq’s boundaries by token of his injuries. The urge to go to him, to embrace him as he did when he was young and helpless gnawed at him, but duty superseded love.

_But first…_

Duo needed to account for his actions. His father would lose sleep until he knew what drew him from the safety of his bed and into the deep at that ungodly hour, what was worth it for him to risk his life with such abandon. Milliardo moved smoothly through the corridor to his sons’ shared chamber, where Duo now rested comfortably, with strict orders from Sally not to disturb his wound.

*

 

“Are you sure you have everything?” Quatre pawed through the last of the green plastic personal possession bags that the hospital ward provided for Heero’s belongings. He cinched the white drawstring and knotted it shut, looping it over his wrist. “Don’t leave anything here, or you’ll never see it again. They just throw everything out.”

“I didn’t bring anything special with me,” Heero reminded him. “I still don’t even have my wallet back.” That rankled; Heero had no way of knowing what his boat jackers were doing with his vessel or his identity. At least Wufei had his keys. 

As though reading his mind, Quatre assured him with “’Fei took care of your plants and already picked up your mail.”

“He has his uses,” Heero shrugged. A hint of a smile toyed with the corner of his mouth. Quatre lightly smacked him with the folded-up newspaper that he brought for Heero earlier that morning.

“He was worried sick.”

“He’d never admit it.” But it was part of his charm. “I’d be worried if he went soft.”

“He asked if you’d eaten yet.”

“Not much. I’d be flexing the definition of ‘edible’ if I called this crap food,” Heero pointed out, nodding to his nearly untouched tray. Quatre wrinkled his nose in distaste as he lifted the heavy, blue plastic lid. Egg noodles in a suspiciously bland looking yellow sauce took space beside canned string beans and a Salisbury steak that resembled a shoe insole swimming in brown gravy. He dropped the lid with a shudder.

“It smells even worse than everything else in this place.”

“Thanks for the candle.” Quatre thoughtfully provided a seabreeze-scented candle jar to freshen the room, even though they weren’t allowed to light it. Heero winced as he swung his legs down from the bed and clutched his ribcage.

“You’re not supposed to get up. The lift team guys aren’t here yet to come get you.”

“I’m not letting them cart me out of here in a chair.”

“Hospital rules. Live a little, let them pamper you. You pay enough for insurance.” Heero silently agreed; despite the fact that he was young, healthy and had no dependents, his premiums were ridiculous on the plan he purchased for himself. “Besides, what’s wrong with a little eye candy?”

Heero snorted. “You don’t want them to give _me_ the ride.” Quatre grinned.

“Bingo.” Heero huffed, then winced as his attempt at laughter jarred his ribs. “Ooh…sorry.”

“Sure. I see how you are. Make me bust another rib so I have to stay in this place that much longer, just so you can flirt with the lift attendants. ‘I don’t know what was wrong with Heero, he was fine a minute ago…’” Dryly, Heero mimed punching himself for emphasis. “’And he looks cold, could you give him your shirt?’” Quatre rolled his eyes.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’…” Heero held up his hands helplessly and shrugged. Quatre swatted him with the newspaper again.

Heero felt slightly guilty as he took in Quatre’s attire. He was still in his work suit, a blazer and slacks in a soft dove gray that was the perfect backdrop for his blond hair and aquamarine eyes. He skipped the necktie, feeling that it made him look stiff and unnatural, and his white silk shirt was open at the throat, revealing a fine, sterling silver chain. His look was professional but still managed to be young and fresh, without making Quatre look like he was reporting for work to sell modular furniture or soliciting people to fill out credit applications for a ten percent discount.

“You didn’t have to pick me up. I could’ve called a cab.”

“The hell you could’ve,” Quatre snorted. “What kind of friend would I be if I just left you here to get your own ride? Someone I care about almost gets himself killed during a weekend jaunt, and I’m not supposed to make sure you get home safely and in one piece?”

“I’m taking you away from your schedule.”

“I have some say in my schedule. Helps when your name is on the building,” Quatre mused.

“Don’t let Iria hear you say that.”

“She’s just pissed that she isn’t here with me instead of being stuck in my one o’clock meeting.” They chatted easily until the lift attendant materialized in the doorway, watching them expectantly and rapping lightly against the frame.

“Knock, knock! Are you all packed up and ready to go?” He wheeled the chair inside and gave the seat a pat. “Take a load off, skipper. Get comfy, and we can stop by the desk to get your discharge orders.”

“Thank God,” Heero muttered. “I was about to start climbing the walls.”

“I’ll let Rashid know we’re on our way down,” Quatre said cheerfully as he extracted his cell phone. The lift attendant halted him with a gesture.

“Sorry. They don’t like people using those up here with all the telemetry equipment. You’ll have to make that call downstairs, or use the room phone.” Quatre tsked, clapping the tiny mobile shut and tucking it back into his pocket.

“Fine.” Heero reluctantly eased into the chair and let his attendant, Rick, fold down the footrests and lift and prop his feet. Heero carried one of his possession bags in his lap while the other two were looped over the chair’s handles in back. He felt slightly foolish when some of the nurses and CNAs waved to him as he passed.

“Bye, Mr. Yuy. Hope you feel better soon.”

“You took good care of me; I appreciate it,” he said humbly. The nurse behind the desk blushed.

“Here is your release form copy and your prescriptions; you can drop those off at the hospital’s pharmacy on your way out if you like, it’s just off the front lobby.”

“Thanks. Oh, and you can keep the flower arrangement on the side table. I won’t be taking it home.” Quatre said nothing; he knew the gesture wasn’t wasted on Heero, because he liked that he thought of him. But his home was very spare, almost bare of knick-knacks or decoration. Floral arrangements were as out of place in Heero’s home as Quatre in a country bar. 

“Thanks! They were beautiful, they’ll look nice out here. You two have a good day.”

It took a while to get an elevator; they waited while two other lift attendants struggled with a patient on a gurney and his oxygen tank. The second car dinged and an older gentleman got out to let them in, holding open the door. He nodded at Heero’s bruises and smiled.

“Hope you feel better, kid.”

“Thanks! Me too.” Quatre smiled and waved and he squeezed his shoulder as they watched the floor numbers light up, one by one, as they descended. Once they reached the lobby, Quatre looked around and read the signs. He was surprised to hear low piano music drifting through the hall.

“Where’s that coming from?” he mused. Whoever it was sounded pretty good; it gave him a yen to take out his old violin and join in.

“I read a flyer earlier about how the hospital sometimes has volunteer musicians here. They sometimes play out front, in the courtyard, or for the pedes ward.”

“That’s nice,” Quatre agreed. The prospect of doing something nice for sick children warmed him. He vaguely remembered having his appendix out when he was seven; his patient room was large and scary, full of strange equipment and very sterile looking. It would have been nice if there had been music or some other form of entertainment to distract him. The newer suites in the hospital at least had cable television and were better furnished than they had been when he was younger, but it was still his least favorite place in the world to be. Quatre enjoyed kids and was the favorite uncle among his nieces and nephews. Iria joked with him that he earned that title by token of being the _only_ uncle. Being the only son in his family and having twenty-seven sisters was nothing to sneeze at.

They headed for the lobby exit before Quatre stopped himself. “Shoot! The pharmacy! Why don’t I drop those slips off for you, Heero?”

“We can use the pharmacy down the street from me,” Heero argued.

“Why make another stop? Let’s get you home. This will only take a minute,” Quatre assured him. The lift attendant sighed in resignation, reminding Quatre of his task. “Better yet, let’s get you in the car. Rashid can wait one more minute.”

“Or twenty,” Heero muttered. Quatre was known for lingering and making conversation with passerby whenever he was out and about and had to wait for any length of time, which was likely if he went to the pharmacy. He was gregarious and a people person.

“I’ll be right back,” he insisted as they headed outside into the warm sun. The heat gave Heero pleasant prickles as it stroked his skin, a nice contrast with the hospital’s drafty air conditioning. Their attendant wheeled him across the street to the lot where Quatre’s limo awaited them. Rashid got out immediately and opened the rear door. His face held relief as he examined Heero and helped the attendant with the foot rests and brakes.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr. Yuy.”

“Good to be back. We lost Quat again. He’s at the pharmacy.” Rashid sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Are we all good here?” The lift attendant backed up with the chair and watched Rashid tucking Heero into the car and offering him a blanket. He appeared to be in good hands.

“Fine, thank you. We’re just waiting for Master Quatre.” The lift attendant shrugged and nodded.

“Get well soon! Have a safe trip home.” He left them, and Heero settled back into the leather-upholstered seat and closed his eyes. The sound of classical music drifted over him as Rashid resumed his place behind the wheel.

“I told him we could just go to CVS on the way home.”

“Will you be needing anything else en route, sir?”

“It depends on what I have at home already. Wufei’s there. I’ll already have all my mail.”

 

Back at the pharmacy, Quatre was behaving true to form, chit-chatting with a little girl in a stroller who was chewing on the ear of a stuffed animal. Her mother was tickled by his silly demeanor.

“Did your dollie have to go to the doctor?”

“Noooooo!”

“Are you sure? Did her tummy hurt?”

“Nooooo!” She giggled at him and held the doll in front of her face, then peeked back out at him.

“Was she a good girl? Did she get a shot?”

The little girl began to play along. “She had a boo-boo like this…see?” She pointed to a Dora the Explorer bandage on her own arm.

Her mother explained to him, “We had blood work and a follow-up visit. Everything’s fine now.”

“How old is she?”

“I’m five,” the little girl informed him haughtily. “I didn’t cry when they gave me the needle. If you hafta go to the doctor, the mean nurse gives you a needle. She says it feels like a bug bite.” Quatre bit his lip while her mother chuckled.

“Next in line?” The pharmacy tech called out. 

“We already dropped off our order,” the woman told him. “Go ahead. We’re just waiting.”

“Thanks! I have to drop off a ‘scrip?”

“We’ll fill that and give you a call when it’s ready. Is this the phone number to contact you?”

“That or my cell.” The woman in red scrubs smiled at him as she began typing in the information. Quatre found himself humming under his breath as the music from the lobby began again.

“That new guy we have volunteering is pretty good. He’s been coming back for three weeks now.”

“Where is he playing?”

“At the nurse’s station over by the medical/surgical recovery unit. He’ll be in Pedes tomorrow.” Quatre nodded and made a thoughtful sound. She finished his order and he slipped away, hoping to get a brief glimpse of the pianist before he headed out. He didn’t want to leave Heero waiting, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

_Whoever it is can really play._ Quatre followed the signs toward “First Floor Medical/Surgical” and turned left. The music rose slightly in volume; it was a medley of Sondheim show tunes, to Quatre’s delight. Quatre noticed a small gathering of patients and staff just inside the door of the lounge who obscured his view, but he saw a few bodies swaying in appreciation. He edged inside, suppressing the guilt niggling at him for keeping his friends waiting outside.

The crowd parted slightly, and he peered through the gap at the pianist, then jerked back slightly in surprise.

_Trowa._ It was him, playing so competently and with so much feeling. Quatre watched him run long, slender fingers over the keys, concentrating only on the music as it moved him. The piano was older and its wood finish was slightly worn, the ivory keys yellowed, but it still sounded beautiful and was well-tuned. Trowa closed his eyes for a moment, just feeling the rising action in the song. Quatre was rapt and he closed his eyes, too, feeling the familiar bars and refrains.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” A nurse remarked to his left. Quatre nodded eagerly as he continued to watch and listen. Trowa was casually dressed in a white, short-sleeved oxford and khakis, and he didn’t wear any jewelry except for a slim black watch with a cracked leather band. His hair still fell into his eyes once in a while as he played; Quatre suppressed a chuckle whenever he tossed his head to urge it back.

Trowa felt a strange flutter in his chest and sensed that someone was watching him intently, beyond simply listening to him play. His green eyes flicked over the gathering in the lounge as he carried the melody, but he ignored the urge to seek out his admirer. The music was still rolling through him, he was channeling its power and beauty, and he was content to grow completely lost in it.

That feeling wouldn’t leave him, like a faint tickle of awareness, and he was intrigued. He threw himself into the music, caressing the keys like lovers and letting his body move in time. A smile toyed with his lips. If his admirer wanted a show, he’d give him a show.

Quatre was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t stop watching Trowa; this was a far cry from trying not to stare too long at Starbucks on any given morning when he picked up his lattes. He was at leisure to drink his fill of looking at him and wondering what other gifts he possessed, how long he played, all of the usual questions that being so talented begged one to ask. Quatre took it in stride whenever anyone who enjoyed his sketches and paintings informed him “I can’t even draw stick figures.” It took all he had each time not to tell them “Yes. You can. Stop exaggerating and just draw something, already.”

_Heero’s waiting._ The thought nagged him, and he reluctantly pulled back, heading out of the lounge in disappointment. He left the sound of light applause behind him. Several people smiled politely at him as they parted to let him leave, which he did as quietly as possible to avoid interrupting anyone’s enjoyment of the music.

A brief wave of movement caught Trowa’s attention, and he looked up just in time to see a familiar, handsomely dressed blond take his leave. For just a moment, he saw the patrician profile and elegant posture, watching him tuck manicured hands into his pockets as he turned away. It was the shy young man from the coffee shop. Trowa wanted to call him back and ask him how he was enjoying the music, and he wondered if his eyes were the ones he felt watching him.

_Doggone it…_

 

*

 

Duo sat stiffly in his seat as his father pinned him with hard blue eyes. He returned his gaze unflinchingly, even though anxiety churned in his gut.

_What have you to say for yourself?_

_I don’t know what you want me to say._ Milliardo felt his blood pressure rise and sparks of his ire escaped his eyes, tightening his fist.

_You don’t know? You presume to tell me you don’t know? When I’ve told you time and time again that I won’t tolerate disobedience, especially in regard to keeping my sons safe?_ Duo’s hand drifted up to scratch a tender spot on his neck where his stitches pull. His father nodded at the injury. _You nearly got yourself killed, and still you defy me. Don’t you._

_I don’t mean to…_

_You still defy me!_ His father seemed to grow, filling the space between them with the boom of his voice and his wrath. His massive, deep chest heaved as he reached out with one tentacle, looping it deftly around Duo’s wrist. He jerked him close, letting his son see the stark blood vessels in the whites of his eyes. The bubbles of his breath and tendrils of his white hair grazed Duo’s cheeks. _What possessed you to leave, when I specifically ordered you to remain within the palace? How could you steal out in the middle of the night, all alone? Explain yourself, Duo._

_I couldn’t stay,_ he admitted petulantly. _I’m sorry, Father. I wanted to visit the surface. I knew Zechs would get in the way. I had to go at night._

_The **surface?!** And the worst thing that happened to you was almost losing your neck to a shark? Well, what was I worried about?_ It was rare that Duo heard his father being facetious. _You knew your brother would hold you back, so you defied him, and in doing so, me._

_Yes._

_And you think this is all right._ Duo’s jaw jutted stubbornly and his violet eyes flashed.

_Yes._ Milliardo’s tentacle tightened warningly around his forearm. His face suffused with hurt and he sighed in Duo’s thoughts. It was a haggard sound, and he could tell he was resigned.

_Then so be it. I tried, Duo._ Milliardo decided further discussion was futile. He dragged Duo from the throne room briskly, surprising him.

_Where are you taking me? Father! FATHER!_

_You won’t stay put willingly. So I’m taking a different tack. Remember that I love you, but I can’t continue to watch you endanger yourself. And for what?_

_Father…I just wanted to see the surface._ Milliardo stopped their trek into the dome’s lower level, pausing as they entered the wide chute. _I wanted to know where this came from._ He withdrew the knife from his braid, a keepsake that he kept close to him since he found it. Milliardo shook his head.

_You’d risk your life for a trinket! A piece of flotsam! This junk is worth your life! Duo, humans cannot be trusted! They are primitive, single-minded, rough people with no conscience! They even destroy their own kind if they think they have anything to gain from it! Few merfolk have lived to tell the tale of being caught in their nets or poisoned by their chemicals…_ Duo interrupted his rant by holding up a hand.

_Mother wasn’t like that._

_In her heart, your mother was one of us. And she would have wanted better things for you than to court danger on the surface, all for a whim. I won’t have it!_ Milliardo extracted the knife from Duo’s hand, wrenching it roughly from his fist.

_NO! I WANT IT BACK! PLEASE, FATHER!_

_You won’t need it where you’re going._ Dread and foreboding filled Duo as he realized where they were going. As they reached the suite at the end of the corridor, two guards greeted them soberly, looking at Duo with pity in their eyes.

_Take him. One month,_ Milliardo informed them. Remus, his elderly dungeon keeper, floated forward and nodded. His remaining, rheumy gray eye blinked at Duo, and he beckoned to him.

_Come, young prince. Please don’t make this difficult…_

_FATHER!_

_It’s for your own good,_ Remus insisted.

_I won’t be locked away!_ Duo insisted, jerking back from his father’s grasp and the advance of the two guards.

_You give me no choice. I won’t wait for your brother to return home with your dead body in his arms the next time, or for you not to return at all. One month. Perhaps you’ll rethink this fixation you have with the surface and realize how much better you have it down here, and how sweet freedom truly tastes before someone takes it away._ Duo doubled back and whipped around his father’s grasp, evading it and scuttling back down the corridor.

He wasn’t fast enough. His father whipped out all four of his tentacles this time, coiling them around his son’s chest and pinning his arms at his sides. Duo struggled, but it was like being tangled in a hundred-pound net, and the harder he thrashed, the more he tired himself out. His muscles burned with the effort and he felt his father’s disappointment through their rapport.

_I’m sorry…I can’t let you leave. You need to learn where you belong, Duo._

Minutes later, Milliardo left him alone in the dungeon’s solitary occupancy cell. He took the knife with him, leaving Duo fearful that he would discard or destroy it.

His father hadn’t even turned the corner before Duo began formulating a plan for his escape.


	7. Pink Sky at Morning, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An escape. A reunion. A proposition.
> 
> Author’s Note: Thank you for your interest in this story.

Duo took out the small, brown leather billfold for what had to be the tenth time since his father locked him away and opened it, rifling through its contents. The strange, clear, flexible sheathes still felt strange when he rubbed them between his slender fingers. The tiny images inside were beginning to degrade and fade slightly despite the protective pockets, but they intrigued him.

There was a picture…Duo decided that was what it must be, even though he didn’t know how it could have been created… of what looked like a young Heero sitting on the lap of a man in his middle years who had the same beautiful eyes. His father, Duo mused. It bothered him that the boy’s tentative smile didn’t reach them. The man’s smile was tidy and hard; he looked intractable and like someone who didn’t brook excuses. Duo’s heart went out to the forlorn little boy, wishing he could comfort him.

The rest of the wallet’s contents were vague and meant little to him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the pronunciations and purposes of some of them. _Costco. Insurance. Health club membership card. In God We Trust._ There were several of the last item, a strange, dull green with more images on them of unsmiling old men. Duo tucked them back into the fold with some difficulty; they kept bunching up. There was another, sturdier picture of Heero that Duo liked more, even though his expression held none of the vulnerability of the one of him as a child. The card was sturdy like the others, and it had Heero’s name spelled out in block print, along with his age, absurdly young, barely an infant in mermaid years. There was the barest hint of a smile on his well-shaped lips, as though he was merely being polite to the person taking the picture. There were numbers listed on the card, with the captions “Ht/Wt.” Duo shrugged; the other descriptions on the card described his eye and hair color, that much he knew.

Cobalt blue, like the sky at dusk, just as the first stars come out. Sable brown hair, soft and rich to the touch when he inclined his head into Duo’s neck. In the photos, Heero’s skin was ruddy and lightly tanned, healthier than the clammy gray caused by hypothermia and nearly drowning. Duo replaced the card in the sheath and sighed. He was so _bored_.

The chamber was near impregnable; Duo’s main source of amusement was triggering the silent alarm that sent Remus’ son, Gar, swimming hell for leather to his cell, spear in hand. He enjoyed the look of annoyance on his young face every time, never finding Duo in any distress.

_Blast! What is it NOW?_

_Tell me a bedtime story._

_Bastard…_

_What was that?_ Duo cupped his ear with his hand for dramatic emphasis, enjoying the way the young guard fidgeted.

_Errm…Prince Duo,_ he muttered in Duo’s mind.

_That’s what I thought you said._ Duo wouldn’t admit that the slur bothered him, less on an offensive note and more because it was entirely too accurate. Rumor in the grotto had it that Duo’s mother and his father, Uriah, hadn’t completed the mating ceremony before his untimely death. Legitimacy of birth, spawned or live-mated, meant little in regard to merfolk inheriting their parents’ belongings, but it damaged one’s status and invited slurs in regard to breeding. Duo cared little for it, feeling more alienated for being an orphan.

It was difficult living at the mercy and generosity of the imposing king and in Zech’s shadow. His terse foster brother cared for him, that much he knew. But if there was one thing Duo despised, it was pity, or assumptions that he couldn’t watch out for himself beyond Milliardo’s grasp. Gar watched him, exasperated but curious.

_What’s that in your hand?_

_Never you mind._

_Maybe I’ll come in there and take it from you._ He puffed up haughtily, brandishing his spear. Duo made a face and a dismissive gesture.

_Try it, small fry._ He tucked the wallet in the looped knot of his hair behind his nape, unrulier now without his brother’s or Noin’s attention to braiding it. There was no mirror in his cell, nothing that could be easily broken and used a weapon of means of the prisoner harming themselves. He didn’t care how he looked with so few people coming by to see him.

_Don’t tempt me._

_But you’d like it, wouldn’t you?_ Duo’s voice in his head was smug. _Do I tempt you?_ Duo rose from the hard stone bench in his chamber and swam to the crystalline bars, almost within reach of the wary guard. His smile grew dimpled and Duo peered up at Gar through his long, dark lashes. 

_Pfft…why would you tempt me? You’re not my type._

_No?_ He grinned at him, and it was a cocky expression that made him look far too pleased with himself.

One slender white hand drifted up to the lean, taut chest and fingered the delicate, pink-beige nipple. His face relaxed into a look of arousal that made Gar’s stomach clench and blood flow more quickly into his extremities. _Your fin says otherwise, little hatchling._ Duo’s palms and fingers teased over his body and Gar heard his psychic moan of need. He swallowed and suddenly felt his cold blood heat up dangerously.

Oh, Duo was good. He had to give him that. Gar lowered his spear and approached the bars, gripping one as he watched Duo play. Hooded, smoldering violet eyes roamed over Gar’s body as he continued to pluck at his nipples and stroke the smooth, perfect plane of his stomach. Gar felt his fin grow stiff when the errant prince’s fingers trailed down to his tail and slowly, teasingly slipped inside his vent. He bucked in pleasure and closed his eyes, letting his mouth drop open in a silent gasp. Duo was enjoying the sensations he created, but having an audience – a helpless one at that – enhanced the experience. The feeling of that gentle self-penetration made him continue to moan with more emphasis.

Gar’s beefy hand shot out to grab for him, any part of him, even if it was just to tangle itself in that long, lush hair, but Duo feinted away from him, teasing him. _Too slow. Awwww. Too bad…_

_Damn it…damned tease…_ The faintly greenish cast to Gar’s fair skin gave way to a deep, rosy flush. His boyish features clenched in a tortured grimace, and before either merman could react, his spine jerked and long, whitish gray streams of semen spurted from his fin, floating between them in a thick soup.

_I take that back. Too fast._ Duo retired to the bench and lay back on it, flicking his tail and continuing to play with his vent, digging his two fingers more deeply into the vulnerable opening. Gar’s face tightened into scowl and he recovered himself long enough to retrieve his spear. Duo watched in amusement as the guard hurried down the corridor, back the way he came.

_Go spawn yourself,_ Duo muttered smugly. He toyed with himself some more, glad to just give himself over to the sensual feeling of his own two hands and his body’s reactions to the light touches. He moaned again, more loudly this time, as his fin grew painfully turgid, nipples flushed a rosy pink. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, revealing the taut, straining cords of his neck. His pulse raced, heating his blood as he brought himself to completion. _Yes…gods, please…more…more, more…_ His mouth and eyes gaped at the intensity of his climax. He thrust his fingers into his vent quickly, in a staccato, ragged pace as he wrung the last of his throes from his body. He went limp against the wall of the cell, spent. He thought for a few moments that he could use a nice nap…

He was harshly shaken from his stupor by the sudden, deafening rumbling of the corridor around him.

 

*

“You don’t have anything in here for me to fix for you.”

“Haven’t been out to shop.” Heero stared guiltily at the pizza boxes littering his kitchen counter.

“Then I’ll do it for you. Someone has to save your from yourself.” Wufei began bundling up the kitchen trash into a tall black bag.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Who’s worried?” Wufei argued. “I’m just following the Good Samaritan law. If I let you die from your own stupidity then that’s like me doing you in myself. Which is tempting.” Heero sighed, then winced from the ache in his ribs. Wufei noticed his discomfort and automatically rummaged in his cupboard for his pain pills.

“Cut it in half. I hate how drugged those things make me feel.”

“I’ll get you some ibuprofen, then.” Wufei returned the orange prescription bottle and found the bottle of Motrin behind the salt container. He shook out three and poured Heero a glass of water from the Alhambra cooler beside his outer kitchen counter. He approached him, bending over Heero where he lay propped on the couch, nursing his sore ribs. Heero tried not to snicker at the look of annoyance on his best friend’s face as he took the pills, popping them into his mouth. He swallowed them with two deep gulps, handing Wufei back the glass. Wufei tsked, reaching down to ruffle his hair.

“You need a trim. You’re looking woolly.” 

“I’m not up to a visit to my stylist. Don’t feel like sitting up that long.” Wufei’s shrewd dark eyes flitted over him, searching his face.

“Promise me you won’t do anything that fucked up again. Call me. Drag my ass out of my house. Anything. Just don’t go off alone like that.”

“Won’t happen any time soon, not til the _Zero’s_ out of the shop.” His boat had been recovered, all the worse for wear, right before Heero could even report it as stolen to his insurance company. They were covering the cost of repairs, at least, which was a load off his mind. But he still felt shaken, violated that thieves had invaded his second home when he was most vulnerable.

Quatre was in rare form, calling him everyday and nagging him to remember his doctor’s appointments and to check the locks on his house. He insisted on calling his contractor to set a date to install a new security system and video monitors around his home, which Heero thought was excessive. He didn’t want to feed Quatre’s anxiety by saying no, so he acquiesced, but it made him feel coddled and dependent, two conditions he despised.

Wufei’s tongue was uncharacteristically tame as he took a page from Quatre’s book, pampering him and running his errands. Heero’s bills sat in neat stacks on his dining room table and his sink was empty. Heero scolded him about cancelled appointments with his clients.

“Don’t you have some needles to stick into people?”

“Why? Feel like being my next victim?” Wufei came up behind him and Heero felt lancing pain in the left side of his neck as Wufei applied pressure to release the muscle. “You’re too tense. You need some time on my table. Quit being a wuss about it and just schedule a half-hour with me. Exhale. Nice and deep.” Heero obeyed, hissing out his breath through pursed lips. “You’re not sleeping well.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m just sleeping ‘wrong.’”

“A half-hour with me, and those exercises I gave you could fix this, if you’d just listen to me when I try to help you. You’ve gotta wanna help yourself,” he reminded him. Heero continued to breathe in long, slow breaths each time Wufei applied pressure, then released, gripping his shoulder and urging him to drop it.

Gradually Heero relaxed and felt a fog lift from him that he hadn’t realized had invaded him. He concentrated on the warmth of Wufei hovering protectively at his back, the feel of his breath gusting faintly over his hair and the low tick of the clock. Wufei’s breath smelled like the chai tea they’d shared, mingling with the scent of his detergent and deodorant. These were comforting details that he associated with his closest friend, at one time much more. Heero sighed heavily, opening drowsy eyes as he tipped his head back, letting himself brush it back against Wufei’s lean chest.

He felt the steady, strong drum of his heartbeat and saw the slight flare of his nostrils and the concern written in his almond-shaped black eyes. Wufei echoed his sigh and shook his head.

“You’re hardheaded.”

“I don’t know what’s good for me, I guess.”

“Easy excuse, Yuy.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. Everything’s wrong with everyone else.” His tone was casual as he tugged a lock of hair at Heero’s nape firmly enough to scold. His slightly full, chiseled lips flattened with annoyance and remembered pain. Heero bristled.

“You know I’m not like that.”

“I’ve never really known how you are; not enough. That’s the problem.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’m not going here with you again.” Wufei removed his warmth, putting a room worth of distance between them as he returned to the kitchen. Heero made an exasperated sound.

“I hate you being mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.” As if on cue, the buzzer on Heero’s dryer went off, effectively ending their argument before it had the chance to peak. “I’ll put on your white load before I head out.”

“What’s the rush?”

“You’re tired. Take a nap.”

“I’m just sore; I’m not sleepy,” Heero complained.

“You’re cranky. That means you’re tired.”

“I’m not cranky!”

“Are, too,” Wufei sang. His smooth baritone drifted around the hallway corner as he evaded him. Heero made a noise of disgust as Wufei changed the loads. He heard his solid colors tumbling into his small wicker basket and Wufei humming to himself, a clear sign he’d begun ignoring him.

Before he could form a rebuttal, his doorbell rang, and a light, rapid knock immediately followed it.

“Shit.”

“What? Expecting anybody?”

“No,” he muttered. “But it figures.”

“Who is it?” Wufei asked as he headed for the front door.

“Don’t get that.” The knocking paused, then began again, more insistent this time.

“ _Heero? Heero!_ ” Wufei rolled his eyes at the familiar dulcet tone.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Told you. Quat must have spilled the beans.”

“Which is to say she knows everything,” Wufei finished. “Better you than me…”

“Asshole…”

“Have fun,” Wufei tsked, sticking out his tongue before he answered the door. Heero steeled himself as his exes greeted each other as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

_Why, God?_

He schooled his face into a neutral expression as Relena rushed inside, arms bundled with shopping bags. Wufei automatically followed her into the kitchen, helping her set it all down, and he busied himself unpacking it while she launched into Smother Heero mode.

“Are you all right?” she demanded breathlessly, breezing over to the couch in a cloud of expensive perfume. Heero sneezed briefly and rubbed his nose. “See, you’re catching a cold. Why don’t you have on any socks?”

“He wouldn’t listen to me when I told him, either,” Wufei piped up from the kitchen, but Relena ignored him.

“I hate socks,” Heero reminded them both, but Relena was already draping the fleece throw blanket over Heero’s lap, even though he wasn’t cold.

“Why did you go out by yourself like that?” she nagged, pouting.

“It was just for a week-“

“That was foolish! No one knew where you were!”

“-end…”

“…I was worried sick, Quatre was worried sick, and you were out in the middle of nowhere…”

“I wasn’t that far out from port,” he argued.

“That’s beside the point! You were all alone!” Relena’s large blue eyes were already misting, and Heero’s blood pressure rose two points. A nagging stabbing invaded his temples, undoing all of Wufei’s good work on his neck. “You could’ve been killed!”

“I wasn’t,” he said helplessly, shrugging.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“What, while I was being boatjacked?”

“No…yes. Heero…damn it. You could have given me a ring before you left.”

“Why?”

“Just to let one more person know where you were going!”

“Just so you could have talked me out of it.” That was precisely why he hadn’t told her, but he kept mum.

“You never returned my call, anyway, butthead,” she accused, arms folded. She plunked herself on the couch beside him, waiting for him to scooch his feet back to make room where they were previously propped. The movement jarred his sore ribs, and he winced. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to the exhibit at the DeYoung. They brought back those sand painters we liked before.”

Before, when they were still dating.

“So I had other plans.”

“You could have called,” she pressed, sounding hurt.

“I’m out,” Wufei interjected, saluting them both. His look was such a contrast from Relena’s, casual in white linen pants, deck shoes and a navy blue tank. He wore his long, glossy black hair back in his usual ponytail. He hung his Ray-Bans from the neck of his shirt by the stem and darted for the door before Heero could stop him.

“Oh, okay… am I in your way?” Relena feigned guilt, rising from the couch as if she, instead, should leave.

“Nah. Later, Yuy.” He beckoned to her. “White load’s in the dryer.” _SLAM!_

Heero sighed. _Shit…_

Relena gave Wufei’s departing back an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, then directed her attention back to Heero. She smiled warmly and sank back down to the couch, reaching for him. She stroked his knee comfortingly. “How’re you faring? Can I get you anything?” He blanched at her touch, even though it was gentle.

“Already took my pain pills.”

“I brought food,” she announced, lighting up as she darted back into the kitchen. Heero heard the swish of his cabinet doors and the clatter of plates.

“I’m fine, I’m not that-“

“Where’s that coffee mug I bought you back from my trip to the Cape?”

_Crap…_ “- hungry…”

“It’s got to be in here somewhere,” she mused, wrinkling her brow. “How do you find anything in here? Your Tupperware practically falls out of the cabinet as soon as I open it. Don’t you stack your lids?” Heero sighed and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t have to do all that.”

“Sit. Let me fuss over you.”

_I hate being fussed over._ “I can fix myself something later.”

“Why? I’m here. Put me to work,” she offered, peering over at him from around the edge of his kitchen wall. She winked at him mischievously and went back to her task. Moments later, he was her captive audience on the couch, picking at a plate of takeout he wasn’t in the mood for, bundled under a blanket he didn’t need.

“…I took some nice pictures of Yellowstone. You wouldn’t believe it, Heero, we saw an actual moose!” she gushed, as though she’d taken a trip by rocket ship.

“That’s nice.”

“You should have gone with me.”

“Eh.”

“You should have,” she chastised.

“That’s fine.” She sighed and shook her head.

“I just wish…Heero…”

_Here we go again…_

Her blue eyes implored him, and she took his calloused hand in her slender, cool one, squeezing it. “Heero…I miss you.”

“I know.”

“I really do.”

“I know,” he repeated, urging his voice to sound conciliatory and understanding.

“It’s so hard…I mean, I feel like…I’ve worn this groove in the pavement. It’s so hard not to come here sometimes. I got into such a routine, coming over at night and spending time with you. Watching the news and doing the crossword. You always knew the geographical clues better than me. I miss tucking you in at night.” He felt her pulse thudding in her hand, almost felt as though he heard her heart beating; it reminded him of Wufei’s heartbeat at his back and the healing, caring grip of _his_ hands. Heero, sweetheart…when Quatre told me what happened to you, I wanted to die.” She bit her lip and guilt swamped Heero, making him break out in a hot flush. He stared down at their joined hands. He squeezed hers back and searched for something to say.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry about you. I always worry about you,” she insisted.

That was part of the problem…

“I never asked you to.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, you know. You do. Every time you jump off that boat and take pictures of sharks or rely on that puny little air tank, you’re asking me to worry. I don’t know why you take such risks, Heero.”

“I love what I do.”

“I don’t understand why. It’s not safe. And look at this, you’re hardly making a living.”

“I’m doing fine.”

“Okay. Sure.” She looked around at the spare furnishings of his beach house and sighed heavily, letting her narrow, feminine shoulders drop for emphasis. “This is fine.” She pressed on. “You could come work for my father.”

“You know I can’t.”

“No. You just won’t.”

“It wouldn’t work.”

“It could work!” She reached up and stroked his long bangs back, tucking a lock behind his ear out of old habit. “You need a haircut.”

“It’s fine.” He removed his hand gently. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not,” she whispered. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and Heero shelved the rest of his argument when he realized she was crying. “I wasn’t fine when I heard that you were held at gunpoint. You were almost taken away from me…”

“Relena…damn it…” He reached out and gently gripped her shoulder, kneading it soothingly. “No one took me away. I’m still here. I’m stubborn,” he explained. “Can’t kill me that easily.”

“Yes, they could have, Heero,” she sobbed. “I wouldn’t have…wouldn’t have had the chance to…” Her voice broke, and he gathered her up into his arms when she couldn’t support herself anymore. His embrace was initially reluctant but sincere. He hated to see her cry, hated to see her hurt, knowing he’d often been the cause. Heero stifled the urge to sneeze from her perfume again and concentrated instead on the feel of her in his arms. Familiar. Warm and soft. Delicate. He palmed her heartbeat as he stroked her back through the thin, expensive cashmere sweater, indulged himself with the slide of his fingers through her wheat blonde hair, one of the traits that initially attracted him to her. Heero was fond of long hair; it gave him something to twine his fingers through when making love, felt so erotic when it brushed over his skin or tented his face when his partner loomed over him in the dark, branding him with greedy kisses.

He tucked the top of her head beneath his chin and sighed. The position hurt his ribs, but he remained quiet. 

“You don’t know what it’s like for me…when I care for you so much…”

“Relena…” His voice held helplessness. No matter what he said wouldn’t be enough. He still couldn’t give her the words she needed to hear. Finally, “…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay?” He punctuated it with a soft kiss through her long bangs. His hand against her back curled into a fist and he sat back, taking her with him while she let out her frustrations. 

It was like a broken record. Relena dealt in emotional blackmail, knowing that at bedrock, despite his stoic nature, Heero was simply too nice to be blunt. He’d broken her heart once, he reasoned; it wasn’t fair to do it again, but Relena’s need for validation and reciprocation was like a lead weight around his neck. Her tearstained face pulled at him as she looked up at him through wet, dark lashes.

“You hardly touched anything.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her, again.

“Let me take care of you,” she implored, cradling his cheek in her palm. “Please, Heero.”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he insisted, but his voice lacked resolve, and he mentally damned himself for it.

“No. I do. You’ve just never let me,” she countered softly, and she inclined her face upward, her warm breath misting over his lips.

She was still beautiful enough to tempt him. A chorus of reason screamed warnings in his head as he gave in, lowering his mouth those last mere centimeters until his lips brushed hers so softly. His body told him that it didn’t really happen, he didn’t fully taste it, that he needed proof, so he did it again, surrendering to the pull she had on him, letting his arms tighten around her slender frame. Heat surged through him but mingled with guilt, stirring his gut into murky soup.

“God, Heero, I missed you,” she breathed beneath his kiss, “…I love you…”

He jerked back as if she’d slapped him.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ Not again. Not now.

“It’s late,” he muttered. “I won’t keep you.”

“I can stay for a while, if you n-“

“No! No. I don’t. Relena…don’t worry about me. Please.” He carefully disengaged himself from her and painfully pulled himself from the couch. She stared after him in confusion, then looked down at her hands in her lap.

“Heero…”

“It’s late,” he repeated. “I’m tired. ‘Fei said I was cranky. I probably need to turn in.” The sun was barely setting over the cliffs in the distance, turning the clouds shades of fuchsia and gold.

“I can put away the food…”

“I can do it. I’ll stick it in the fridge before I go to bed.”

“Fine. That’s…fine.” She got up reluctantly and collected her purse from the hook by the door, slinging the long strap over her shoulder. She paused by the door.

“I wish…” She threw up her hands and let them slap her thighs helplessly. “G’night, Heero.”

“’Night,” he tossed back as she let the door slam shut behind her. Heero lied to himself that the wind catching it was to blame.


	8. Pink Sky at Morning, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See last chapter.

_GAR! REMUS!_ Duo projected his cries in a panic as everything around him rumbled and rocked. The aftershocks and vibrations of the earthquake left him disoriented, and the chamber amplified the sound until it was deafening. He found himself thrown against the wall and felt it shudder at his back.

_LET ME OUT!_ Frantically he ran his hands over the cell’s security panel, searching for any mechanism that would allow him out. Duo realized that Gar would probably chastise him for his fears. He remembered quakes as a child, but this one was bigger, more menacing and just felt _wrong._

Duo eyed the assortment of switches and levers, reaching through the bars as far as his arm would let him, wishing he had more time to ponder each one’s use. As though his efforts had triggered some alarm, Gar appeared in the corridor, glaring at him as he approached.

_Hands off!_ He brandished his spear and thrust, earning himself a glare as Duo retracted his hand, avoiding losing a finger.

_What are you standing there gaping for? Let me out!_ Duo snapped. _Don’t leave me stranded here! This place is about to come apart at the seams!_

_The hell it is, Highness. Don’t worry your pretty little head about a few little tremors. I’m not letting you out. My king would have my hide if I fell for your line of sh-_

_LET ME OUT!_

_Quit being such a squirt! No! You’ll stay in there and rot until your father-_ Gar’s voice in Duo’s mind died as his eyes widened, darting up to the quaking stalactites looming over him. Bits of flotsam and fragments of igneous rock chipped loose and floated down to the sea floor. Duo pinned him with an imploring look. 

_You wouldn’t leave me here…would you?_

_I told you, there’s nothing to be afraid -_ The low rumbling suddenly escalated into a barrage of sound that resonated through their bodies, thundering across the ocean floor. _Shit…_ Gar hissed numbly as he huddled against the bars, gripping them for balance.

_Now d’you believe me? Out! Let me OUT!_

_I told you…!_ Duo’s eyes bore into his accusingly.

_My father would never forgive you if you let anything happen to me!_ Duo’s hand darted out and snapped around his wrist with surprising strength. _You don’t like me much. Ask yourself, squirt, d’you want my death on your head?_

_It’s just a quake…_ His voice sounded uncertain, unconvincing even to himself.

_It’s not just any quake, and you know it._ They shared a long, sober look. Gar nodded, deciding he would have to live with the consequences if the violet-eyed prince’s instincts were wrong. He fumbled in his belt for the keys and hastily crammed a bronze one into the lock.

_Out! Quick! WAIT! You’re coming with me,_ he informed him as Duo started to rush off. He reached for Duo’s straggly braid and balled his fist in it, jerking him back.

_OW!_ Duo glared back at him and gave him a shove, but Gar wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. He gripped his upper arm and dragged him down the corridor. Duo was too frightened to appreciate the relief and excitement of being out of his cell, particularly since he was still captive. But he felt Gar’s rapid pulse in his fingers, telling him that he, too, was petrified despite his claims that the quake was nothing. Duo expected Gar to lead him outside, but instead he found himself propelled toward the east corridor, where Gar prodded him to swim up the chute. _Wait! Why are we going in here? I need to find Zechs!_

_We’re headed into the stronghold._

_No! Have krill eaten your brain? Going underground isn’t the answer, we’ll be crushed! We need to go OUT, not IN!_

_It’s my duty to keep you safe!_ Gar hissed indignantly.

_You’re gonna get us killed!_ Duo insisted, wresting his arm from his grip and spinning on him. _We have to get outside! I need to find my brother. He’ll go sharkshit if he doesn’t know what happened to me._ Gar’s mouth tightened, but Duo could feel the stubborn guard’s resolve weakening. Duo sighed silently, then made up his mind.

He neatly jack-knifed his body and lashed out with his tail, clipping Gar in the jaw with the full force of his sleek muscles and sturdy cartilage. He smirked at the low “oof!” that Gar uttered telepathically as he went down. Duo retrieved his spear and hovered over Gar’s prone form. _Nighty-night._ Duo heeded his conscience and dragged Gar by his armor plate toward the main hall.

Remus stopped him, glaring at his son’s condition. _I knew he couldn’t trust you!_

_That doesn’t matter now, you old eel! He wasn’t going to let me out,_ Duo pointed out soberly. Remus collected Gar against himself, checking him over for injury, rheumy old eyes promising swift punishment for Duo if he found anything wrong.

_I’ll alert your father that you’ve been released-_

_I’ll do that myself when I see him,_ Duo argued, punctuating it by his defensive stance with the spear. Remus gave him a mutinous look, then nodded.

_Your father will hear from me,_ he promised to Duo’s tail as he sped off. With that, Remus set off the alarm that sounded directly into the king’s drawing room.

*

 

Noin raced through the living quarters of the palace, searching each room for stragglers who might not have heeded the alarms. On her way out of the third pod, she nearly collided with the sightless mermaiden the royal guard was charged to protect at all costs.

_Daphne,_ Noin scolded, _come with me, now!_

_I need to speak with his Highness,_ she interrupted as Noin grabbed her arm and began to pull her toward the gates.

_I need to get you to safety!_ Noin grew exasperated at the Blessed One’s stubbornness. Daphne shook her head, and those eerie, sightless green eyes, like cloudy opals, seemed to stare back at her, giving her chills.

_I need to share my vision with the king, it’s urgent!_

_You don’t call this urgent?_ Noin wished she could point to the quaking walls and bits of rubble that were drifting down from the ceiling, but the effort would have been in vain. It was moot, with the rumbling growing louder around them, stirring up the currents that buffeted them roughly.

_It concerns Prince Duo!_ Daphne shouted into Noin’s mind.

_Duo!_ Noin paled but continued her duty, escorting Daphne into the large foyer and toward the entrance of the dome.

_I see darkness! He’s surrounded by it, and they want to devour him! She means him harm! She destroyed his mother, too!_ Daphne babbled.

_You’re not making any sense!_ Sometimes the Oracle’s visions and her way of interpreting them were vague and cryptic, and those who heard her predictions often wondered if her gift addled her mind.

_His father cannot let him go! Duo’s his blood! He’s his blood, and she’ll use it against him! Sanq will fall!_ Her fingernails dug into the tender flesh of Noin’s upper arm until she swatted her to make her stop.

_Calm down! You’re not helping anyone this way!_ But Noin was baffled by her revelation. _Duo’s his blood._ That was ridiculous; Noin remembered the day that the king’s agents brought Duo to live in the palace. He wasn’t even born in the grotto.

_You must find him. Find Prince Duo. Don’t let him leave the grotto,_ Daphne intoned grimly. _Or all will be lost._ Noin resolutely led her outside the dome, where the king’s commanders were performing a head count. The denizens of the palace and surrounding structures massed themselves along the red reef, huddling together in schools, some grouping by genus out of habit. Daphne continued to babble and rail, growing more distraught despite Noin removing her from immediate danger. _She has eyes everywhere! Eyes and teeth!_

That made Noin stare at her incredulously. An ugly shiver ran up her spine. _Who’s ‘she?’ Daphne, you’re rambling!_

_The Evil One! The Loveless One! She Who Dwells in Darkness!_

_Une…_

_Yes. I saw her in my dreams. Cold, cruel eyes. Noin…she smiled at me._ Noin instinctively gathered Daphne more firmly and protectively against her as they sped out into the open, dodging more rubble. Noin sighed her relief when she met up with Zechs. His eyes were flashing and he was livid.

_Where’s my brother?_ he demanded.

_Remus would have taken him out with him once we sounded the alarms, even if it was in manacles,_ Noin reasoned.

_You know Duo._

_Aye. That’s why I’m worried that he’s long gone._

_He was forbidden to leave the dome!_

_He was imprisoned,_ Noin reminded him, but Daphne interrupted them impatiently.

_Go after him! Hurry, Prince Zechs! She will tempt him, and she will destroy him!_ Zechs’ face briefly reflected shock and horror before his thunderous scowl returned.

_Not as I live and fight. No one harms what and who I care for, least of all that parasite._

*

He was being watched. Duo could feel it.

That didn’t stop his flight through the murky deep as he swam through the reef corridor, never happier to see their crimson peaks and ridges. He gripped the spear tightly and ascended until the water became clearer, light filtering through to illuminate a school of jellyfish. Dangerous but beautiful. Duo watched them, rapt; they fit his love of shiny things.

There it was again. That eerie sensation that he wasn’t alone. Duo picked up the pace, deciding he didn’t need to be easy prey. A voice inside him nagged that he should have rejoined his family outside the dome while everyone was accounted for. 

It felt too good to be free once more. Duo’s limbs felt fluid and loose, no longer cramped in the confines of his cell. He still chafed in resentment of his father’s treatment. Milliardo never would have handled Zechs’ discipline with such a heavy hand.

_That’s because he’s his son by blood,_ a mean voice inside him nagged. _Nothing so special about you._ Then hot, thick guilt swamped him at his own lack of loyalty. Milliardo had taken him in. Duo owed him more, but it was too easy to distance himself, emotionally and physically, from his foster father when he was feeling so restless.

Duo had always been a roaming fish at heart, not unlike the sharks he despised; he could never sit still for more than a few moments. Zechs had been the voice of his conscience and unwilling guardian ever since he was a squirt. Most of his early stages of guppyhood had been spend evading his brother and Noin’s nagging and constant lectures. He remembered his brother’s scoldings bitterly, often accompanied by tiny shocks of static in his tailfin that would often send him pouting off into the anemones and coral.

He slowed his pace, tail muscles sore from his flight, and Duo relaxed his grip on the spear. It felt odd not to have anywhere to go, for the moment, and not to have to meet anyone’s expectations, even if only for a little while.

He continued to watch the jellyfish. They seemed to change color and flicker in a strange, graceful dance.

*

_Poor youngling,_ purred a rich, deep woman’s voice from above the scrying pool. _Lost?_

_Mistress, shall we take him? He’s all alone…_ Her hammerheaded minion sounded hopeful, seeming to salivate at the thought of young merflesh.

_No. You lack vision, my pet. He isn’t food, he’s a means to an end, and a gift I mean to use well. Look at him fluttering on without a care in the world. Pretty, foolish thing._ She nodded to her servants in the large, dark den. _Takes after his mother, doesn’t he?_

_Mistress Une…surely you don’t mean to hurt the prince._ A young, homely caecelia hovered nearby with a corked vial of wine. Her eyes were a translucent blue, and their schlera were striated with too-visible blood vessels. Her skin held the sickly gray pigment of many of Une’s followers, acquired from living within the inky, dank confines of her underground realm. 

A long, slender tentacle tip reached up and chucked the maiden beneath her short chin. _I mean precisely that, my dear. What say you? Does it make you squeamish?_ The youngling looked slightly sick and ducked her head, letting her curtain of dull brown hair shroud her face. Une chuckled. _Don’t be shy._ The girl dutifully offered her the flagon and Une plucked it from her hand. _Leave me be._

_Yes, Mistress…!_ Une’s sinister smile followed her from the chamber as she hurried out in a rush of bubbles and ink. She uncorked the flagon and pursed her lips around the filter, inhaling the narcotic-laced wine. She hummed in contentment, relishing the flush of prickling warmth that infused her bones. Her hair billowed out around her, charged with static, and she laughed for the pleasure of it. The sound rattled the surrounding caverns and made the ocean floor quake in resonant pangs.

_Pretty thing…he likes pretty things…_ Une chanted an incantation to herself and reached for her scepter, a viciously pointed staff made from ebony stone and carved with runes. She broke the surface of the scrying pool with it, stirring it until it glowed. _Shiny things…_ she droned, closing her eyes as she conjured the first of many temptations to bring the young mer-prince closer, more deeply into her clutches.

_Keep your enemies close,_ Une murmured, and your family closer, sweet nephew…

**

 

Duo blamed his unusual, unbreakable fascination with the jellyfish on hunger and from being locked up too long. He recoiled briefly when they surrounded him loosely, but he wasn’t their target, just their audience. They glowed and reflected the beauty around them, stealing colors from the nearby flora and turning it into iridescent light that rippled through their bodies. His amethyst eyes followed their movements in wonder, slowly growing drowsy and glazed.

The water around them refracted the light, bending it into different, sinuous shapes that shimmered and rippled, mimicking Duo’s movements as he swam. _They’re following me?_ He barely noticed when a stinging sensation swept over his skin; the light was distracting him.

_Cooommmmmmee with uuusssssssssssssss..._ Duo shook his head, not completely addled, but confusion fogged his brain.

_I don’t know you; I don’t even know where you’re going, I need-_

_No, young Prince Duo. You don’t need to do anything but follow uuusssssssssssss…_

Duo’s fingers went slack, releasing the spear. It floated down and landed soundlessly on the ocean floor. _Follow you…must…follow you…_

_Mistress will take care of yoooouuuuu…_

Duo simply did as the voices bade him, feeling them resonating in his veins, insinuating themselves into his pulse and flesh. He swam away from the red reef wall, toward the yawning caverns that always gave him chills as a young squirt. All that mattered to him was the strange ecstasy swirling inside him, brightening everything around him, intensifying sounds and tastes and colors.

He approached the mouth of the cavern with no fear, now, aching with curiosity. Duo ignored the strange throb in his arm, the dull sting that blanketed the skin from elbow to wrist.

 

*

Heero walked out onto his deck to feel the low breeze on his face, wrapping himself in the throw blanket and carrying a cup of tea. He leaned against the rail and watched the sky shift colors. The weather report promised a storm the next day, due by mid-morning. As long as Heero was on dry ground, he had no problem with a little rainfall.

His phone jangled from the kitchen, evoking a weary sigh. He set his cup on the patio table and let himself back in through the sliding door. Trying to nap had been futile; he saw the gunmen every time he closed his eyes.

“This is Heero,” he barked.

“Sheesh…someone’s in a snit. Are you okay?” Quatre inquired without offering him a formal greeting. Heero sighed, closing his eyes in defeat.

“I’m just…rattled.”

“Want some company?”

“No offense, Quat, but I’ve had more than I can handle today.”

“Really?”

“Relena.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Crap.”

“And that was right when Wufei was done working me over.”

“Ouch…”

“I’m scattered,” he admitted. “I’m at a loose end, Quat. I can’t focus. It sucks.”

“You’re supposed to be resting, anyway. What’s to focus on? You should be in bed.”

“I keep seeing the bastards who took _Zero_ from me.”

“I hate that they did that to you.” Quatre’s voice hardened, and Heero knew he’d opened Pandora’s box.

“It was random, Quat.”

“You should have had ‘Fei with you! Or next time, if you’re so restless to go somewhere for the weekend, call me! We could’ve headed to my cabin in Maine! Or anywhere, for that matter!”

“It isn’t up to you to babysit me!”

“Heero…” Quatre was getting worked up again, and Heero wanted to nip it in the bud.

“Quat! I get it! I told you about this before, I needed space!”

In the moments of silence that followed, Heero hated himself.

“I…I guess you did. I’ll…call you.” Quatre’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Quat-“ _Click._

Great. He’d alienated not just one, but _three_ people who cared about him today. Heero cradled the handset and headed back outside. He hated shame.

It ate at him, for so many reasons.

The sun began to set, pulling deep hues of crimson and amethyst from the clouds. Heero was taken in by its beauty and grew slightly wistful. Those colors…reminded him of something. “Violet,” he murmured aloud. He took a sip of the tea and searched his memory for a similar impression. He had a fleeting recall of a pair of large, concerned eyes and the sensation of slim, strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him afloat in the frigid water.

A sound came to him that had haunted him since his incident, occasionally waking up with it on his lips. “Duo?” he whispered. Yes, that was it. Now that he said it out loud, a piece of the puzzle fell into place. He’d been saved before the rescue boat hauled him on deck, that much he knew.

. _It’s all right._

_Where am I? Oh, God…tell me, where…_

_You were hurt. I have you now._

_Head…hurts._

_I know. You’ll be all right._

_Where’s my boat? Where the hell’s my boat?_

_Gone._

Heero shook his head against the ache of struggling to remember. It made no sense. The man buoying him hadn’t said two words to him, literally, beyond his name. At least, he thought Duo was his name, which struck him as odd. He never saw those rosy lips move, but he heard his voice somehow, felt those calm emotions rolling over him from his savior. Heero had feared for his life, fighting to accept the inevitable once he woke and found himself bobbing in the waves, but the voice and the gentleness in the face looming over his made him feel protected.

He remembered a quizzical, sweet smile and eyes the color of irises. He felt the soft press of those lips against his cold cheek before he abandoned him to the Coast Guard crew. One thing nagged at him the most.

“How the hell did that guy end up all the way out there, all alone?”

 

*

Quatre was making little to no progress on the work he took home with him. He fumed as he opened his emails from his laptop, ignoring his cooling chai latte. _That’s what I get for caring…_

Quatre was hurt; it was hard for him to empathize with Heero’s plight of having too much company when it was all he could do not to keep watch over him, himself. Was Heero an adult? Yes. Could he take care of himself? _Yes,_ nagged his voice of reason, but Quatre didn’t agree.

He knew Relena well and almost – but not quite – pitied her. The Peacecrafts and the Winners were business associates and close friends going as far back as three generations. Quatre’s mother used to joke that he and Relena were almost “kissing cousins,” which used to make him cringe. Relena was whiny, needy and spoiled as a child. She’d matured somewhat when they each went away to college, but she was still needy, still attention-seeking and a social climber. Quatre always felt drained after he’d been in her presence for more than a half an hour.

He bit his tongue when she pleaded with him to introduce her to Heero Yuy. Both boys had been fast friends since middle school, when Heero Sr. enrolled his son in the same expensive, highly accredited private academy. Quatre was devoted to him from the moment Heero had intervened on an incident in the cafeteria, when a group of bullies tripped him on his way to his lunch table. Quatre was sensitive and nonconfrontational, traits that hadn’t served him well.

“Whatsamatter, Tinkerbell? Did you fall down?” Alex jeered. Mueller grinned behind him, making eye-wiping gestures with his knuckles to signify that Quatre was a crybaby. Quatre’s elbow and knees throbbed from his landing, and he looked down in dismay at the milk and gravy stains on his good school sweater. Choruses of laughter surrounded him, bringing an angry red flush into his fair cheeks.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Is that how you get your kicks?”

“Bet that’s not how you get yours, fairy,” Alex told him snidely. He wasn’t paying attention when Mueller’s presence behind him was suddenly vacated. Quatre watched in disbelief as Heero silently yanked him by one arm, giving him a brutal Charlie horse, then shoved him away like so much garbage. He tapped Alex roughly on the shoulder. He spun on the interloper behind him and snapped, “What!”

_WHACK!_ A rivulet of blood sprayed from Alex’s nose and he fell back with a low shout, tumbling into a small, round table of students. A couple of trays slid off with the momentum onto the floor, and an open carton of milk soaked his back and rump. His peers righted the table with mixed curses and stared up at Heero in surprise. The quiet loner was always so stoic, pretty much ignoring everyone around him.

Until now.

“C’mon,” he grunted, taking Quatre’s tray and setting it down on his preferred table in the back of the cafeteria. Instead of letting him sit, he led him to the men’s room in the corridor. Quatre watched him numbly as Heero wet several paper towels and squirted some soap onto them, then began daubing at Quatre’s sweater and tie.

“Why’d you do that?”

“I can’t stand those two.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Solemn, dark blue eyes peered up at Quatre for a brief instant. “Are you sorry I did?”

“No.”

“Good.” Those unsettling eyes left his face again and went back to his task.

They shared their mutual secret about their preferences later on, during secondary school. Quatre gradually came out of his shell more and grew into a confident young man, but Heero always tended to keep things close to the vest. They were opposites, but Heero was still Quatre’s closest friend, and frequently his protector.

Quatre had made the silent vow that it was his turn, now, to look out for Heero’s best interests. When Heero’s father disowned him, Quatre was the first to offer him a place to stay whenever he needed it. But he wanted to shake him, shout at him, disturbed and confused that he seemed so unaffected at the loss of his relationship with his family.

Secretly, Quatre feared he was next.

 

Relena was stubborn. She wanted Heero, and she wouldn’t be swayed from his subtle hints and warnings. To his surprise, Heero acquiesced, actually enjoying her attention, flattered when she asked him on a date. Quatre, in typical fashion, stepped back and chose not to intervene. Relena was blissfully happy, and in some ways, she’d been good for Heero, caring for him when he wouldn’t care for himself. Quatre only feared for her tender heart, seeing a disaster coming around the horizon. Relena couldn’t realize that her relationship with Heero wasn’t the norm for him; it was the exception.

They crashed and burned. Quatre was caught in the middle, right where he loathed to be. He was torn between letting Relena cry on his shoulder or letting Heero blister his ears over coffee. He wisely bit his tongue, holding back “I told you so’s” and offering only empathy and understanding. Good old Quatre.

It was getting old.

He knew better. Heero popped off at the mouth, every now and again. He should have known better than to take it personally, but Quatre was rattled. Heero’s near-miss left him shaken and raw, and he felt helpless, knowing his friend was almost taken from him. Quatre wanted to protect him, but he didn’t want him feeling smothered on his account.

He stared balefully at the piles of paper and spreadsheets. “Fuck this nonsense,” he muttered. He needed some time out of the house. Quatre walked past his reflection in his full-length mirror and made a face; he was still dressed for work, even though he’d been home for two hours. He headed for the shower and immersed himself in the hot spray, humming along to the CD player he kept on the commode top. He spiked his hair slightly with some gel and shaved quickly, then sprayed on a hint of Burberry.

He perused his closet’s offerings, walking into it and rifling through his hangers of newly returned dry cleaning. _Nah._ Quatre wasn’t in the mood for anything formal. An escape from the house and from life in general required comfy, scruffy togs. Rashid would throw a fit, but it couldn’t be helped. Quatre was in the mood to misbehave.

He whistled on his way out the door moments later, dressed in an older black leather jacket with myriad zippers, a snug white tee and battered Dickies jeans and short leather boots. Quatre eschewed any jewelry except for his class ring and a plain silver wristwatch. Rashid looked up in surprise from the kitchen table, where he was reading the paper and eating a slice of toast.

“Where do you need me to take you tonight, Master Quatre?”

“Nowhere,” he shrugged, grinning. “I’m in the mood for a drive.”

“No, nonono. That won’t do at all. I’ll just get my coat-“ Quatre stopped him.

“Don’t wait up, Rashid. I need some air. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll pardon my temerity, sir…”

“I always have, Rashid.”

“This seems…er, a bit out of character.”

“Life’s boring when it’s too predictable, old friend.” Quatre clapped him on the shoulder fondly. “See you in the morning.” Before he could protest further, Quatre left him, whistling as he let the door slam after him.

“Where the hell did I leave my blood pressure pills?” Rashid muttered under his breath as the black Ferrari rumbled out of the garage.

*

_Duo. Come to me, my sweet boy._ The voices were melodic, rippling and melding into one of heart-stirring beauty. It was familiar to him at once.

_Mother?_

_My Duo…I’ve missed you so. Stay with me, child._ The shapes around him rippled and shimmered, changing until a sinewy, tall mermaiden swam before him, staring back at him with his own eyes. She reached for him, and his heart nearly burst with joy.

_Mother!_ He was beside himself, rushing into her outstretched arms. Her long tendrils of chestnut hair wrapped around them both, and he felt her low chuckle.

_There’s no need for us to be parted now, Duo._

_I lost you._ His tone was accusing and held remembered anguish and grief.

_Never. You could never lose me, Duo._

 

*

Deep within her cave, Une smiled as she spoke.

_…not even if you tried, my sweet boy._

*

 

Zechs plowed through the water at break-neck speed. His muscles burned with the effort, but he couldn’t slow down. Daphne’s words remained with him, pricking him. _She will tempt him, and she will destroy him._

That was all Zechs needed to know. He made a sound of outrage when he found the fallen spear. Zechs plummeted to the floor and scooped it up, noticing the royal seal on the staff. He knew Duo had to have taken it with him, explaining how he’d gotten out of Remus’ lockdown. But it angered Zechs now, to think of his brother swimming aimlessly and unarmed. _Damn it, Duo!_

Strangling his brother with his hair was too good for him. He’d tie him against the gates back at the dome and leave him for the bottom feeders to gnaw…

Zechs exited the reef tunnel and noticed schools of tiny angelfish swimming quickly away from something in the distance. _What’s wrong?_

_The Evil One. She toys with one of her children. By the caverns._

_Show me!_

_Nay, Majesty. We shall be her dinner if we do._

_I’m looking for my brother!_

_She has him. Or she will. Godspeed, Majesty._ Zechs cursed, then waved as he took his leave. The fish burbled amongst themselves in pity and concern.

He saw something shimmering in the distance, against the dark outcropping of aged volcanic rock. The caverns. They’d always spooked him as a child, and they were the subject of old banshee’s tales meant to warm younglings away and keep them safe. He sped toward the glow, curious about the swarm of large jellyfish surrounding it.

He smelled the stench of ink and rot the closer he drew, and Zech growled at the sight of Duo’s familiar braid and blue tail. 

_What’s wrong with him?_ Zechs approached the scene and his eyes sparked with rage at the sight of the red, hectic rash along Duo’s arm. He’d been stung, poisoned with jellyfish venom, the more toxic strain of it produced by Une’s pets. It had a hallucinogenic effect on the victim, causing them to hear voices, and in Duo’s case, to have visions. His brother was eerily pale and his eyes were glazed, fixed on something Zechs couldn’t see. His expression was rapturous and blissful. Zechs had to make him snap out of it.

_DUO!_ He embraced something that wasn’t there.

_Mother…_

_That’s not your mother! There’s no one there!_ Zechs shouted into his mind. He reached his brother and grabbed him, shaking him roughly. _Come to your senses!_

_No! NO! You can’t take me away from her!_

_She isn’t here, damn it! You don’t know where you are! I won’t let you stumble in here and end up dead, or worse!_

_She’s…she’s taking me home! Where I belong!_

_You belong with me, dummy! And with Father!_

_NO!_ Duo’s serene features twisted with anger, eyes full of fire. He shook off his brother’s restraining hands. _LET ME GO! I HATE YOU! You let him lock me away!_

_I had no choice!_

_You would say that! You hate me, too! You’ve never wanted me!_

_Duo, damn it, come with-_ His words were cut off as a man-o-war swept behind him and snared him in its tentacles, dosing him with burning venom. Zechs scream was guttural and hoarse, eyes wide and sparking with white-blue currents. Duo looked horrified, mouth gaping.

Beside him, the visage of his mother beckoned to him. _Leave him be…_

_I can’t! Mother, it’s Zechs! He’s hurt!_

_You don’t need him, child. Come with me. He can take care of himself!_ Her voice lost a hint of its lilt, hardening and growing more insistent. Duo stared into her face, unearthly beautiful but marred by something mocking, almost cruel.

That wasn’t how he remembered his mother.

He shook himself. _No. No, he needs me,_ he argued. 

_Duo! OBEY ME!_

_NO!_

_He’s never been that obedient, you old deceiver,_ Zechs groaned as he fought the massive predator, stabbing into it with the spear. The acid burned, wracking him in agony, but he couldn’t succumb to it until he had his brother safe and far away from the caverns.

_Mind your own business, nephew!_ Une ordered coldly through Duo’s mother’s lips. She narrowed violet eyes and sneered. _You dare trespass in my realm?_

_You dare to take…what belongs…to my father,_ he countered bitterly. _Loveless, miserable bitch…_ His voice grew weaker, and his flesh took on a unhealthy gray pallor. Red welts rose along his back and tail, and adrenaline flooded Duo.

_ZECHS!_ Duo evaded the swarm of jellyfish, no longer beautiful to him. They massed around the brothers, menacing and smothering, emitting blinding flashes of light. _SHOCK IT! QUICK!_ Zechs stared up into Duo’s face, wreathed in contrition and sorrow at the trap he’d led them into. 

_Take this…and get back…_ Zechs lobbed the spear toward him, and Duo caught it in his grip. Duo felt his brother gathering power from the surrounding current, feeding himself with energy from the water itself. He concentrated and generated an enormous charge, then channeled it into the man-o-war. The creature emitted a piercing, shrill scream that resonated and echoed through the cavern.

Une answered it with a keening wail of pain, and the specter of Duo’s mother warped and twisted, disappearing as the jellyfish gave up their radiance. They floated along, dead and spent in a mass of clumps. The man-o-war released Zechs from its poisonous grasp and drifted away. Duo hurried forward, rushing with his brother from the cavern.

_I’m sorry…_

_Idiot…_ Zechs had no more words for him on their journey back to the dome. His brother’s condition was the only thing speeding Duo’s strokes. The tremors and his near-demise at Une’s hands were nothing compared to his father’s wrath.


	9. On the Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo breaks away from the only family he’s known.
> 
> Author’s Note: I suck. The only excuse I have for letting this story go for so long, is, well, all of them. Hardly any feedback on my last chapter, which took forever to write, YouTube pulling all of the links to the episodes they had due to copyright infringement, real life, Nanowrimo, my X-Men fics, fan art, my daughter’s Halloween costume that I made, RoLo fic, changes in my work schedule, and having to share my PC with pretty much everyone in my house after my kids broke their Wii.

_I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do with you, Duo._ Milliardo eyed his son levelly and gripped his throne’s armrest until his knuckles whitened. _You’ve forced my hand. I’m giving you a choice. _Duo didn’t speak. His brother was also silent and still glaring daggers at him, and his skin was mottled with red sores from the man o’ war’s attack. But Duo sensed his brother’s grudging pity, even if he wasn’t speaking to him.__

__He spent the morning mired in guilt, subjected to his father’s staff’s glares and whisperings. Milliardo allowed him to return to his own quarters instead of remanding him to Remus’ custody again. Milliardo’s technicians were inspecting the dome and the palace’s generators for flaws and damage, letting nothing escape their scrutiny._ _

_You’re too wily to lock up. And you’re too stubborn to heed me when I tell you to stay away from the surface. You were nearly killed, and you almost took your brother with you._

_I didn’t mean it! Zechs didn’t have to come after me!_

_The hell I didn’t,_ Zechs growled, narrowing his eyes. They emitted faint sparks of annoyance and resentment. _As if I’d let you take off in the middle of an earthquake, alone, when something could happen to you._ Duo spun on him, but Milliardo wouldn’t have it. He demanded his younger child’s attention swiftly, flicking out one long tentacle and whipping it around Duo’s wrist. He lassoed him and jerked him so close that Duo could count the flecks of green in his eyes. His father appeared larger than ever, even menacing, and it chilled him to see him looking at him so grimly.

_You risked both of your lives. I gave you a punishment that I expected you to uphold, so you’d learn that I only mean the best for you. You disrespected me by leaving the dome and wandering out so close to the caverns. Look what almost happened_

_I’m sorry, Father._

_I almost wish…_ Milliardo stopped himself, and his eyes clouded over with regret. _No,_ he murmured into Duo’s mind. He seemed to reassure himself that whatever he’d held back wouldn’t help the troubles floating between them. _I’m at a loss._ Hearing his father repeat made Duo feel worse. The young merman bristled and jerked back, trying to free himself from his foster father’s grip.

_I would have ended up crushed if I’d stayed in my cell. Would that have made you happy?_

_I won’t tolerate your insolence! You’re in the wrong! That’s not the point!_

_You wouldn’t have to worry about me being such a burden,_ Duo suggested sourly. Fire sparked in his violet eyes, still so much like his mother’s, and Milliardo’s gut wrenched. He stiffened, and sparks of electricity danced dangerously in his hair, making it float up around him in a flurry.

_You’re my burden to bear,_ Milliardo growled, not caring how callous the words sounded due to his rage.

_Maybe I shouldn’t be. I wish you’d left me to the sharks when Mother died. You don’t care about me. You called yourself being kind, Father, taking me in. You have Zechs. You have your heir. You don’t need me. **You’ve never truly wanted me.** Duo could tell his words stung him. _Cast me out. That’s the choice you’re giving me, isn’t it._ Milliardo’s eyes narrowed dangerously._

_You don’t know what you’re saying, Duo. You don’t know your place._

_In the dungeon? Locked up there, or here?_

_No. Locking you up didn’t help._ Milliardo lashed out with his tentacles again, and this time, they wrapped tightly around the child he’d hidden so many secrets from for so long, in an effort to protect him. _Zechs. Give it to me._ Duo’s violet eyes flitted from his father’s thunderous face just long enough to see Zechs darting toward them, and he wriggled and thrashed, suddenly panicking that his brother conspired with his father to carry out his punishment. Duo felt his brother jerk his arm back, and he wore a determined look on his face as he snapped something cold and metallic around his wrist. The band pulsed and constricted around his flesh, and Duo cried out in both men’s minds, shocked and outraged at their nerve.

_Get it off!_

_It’s for your own good, Duo!_ Zechs insisted. His mouth was a grim line, and his eyes were sparking with irritation, like his father’s, but with less intensity. _I can’t watch you get yourself killed!_

_I can take care of myself!_

_Not if you keep wandering off to the surface! Not if you go into those caverns again! Une nearly took you away from me! I won’t lose someone else who I-_ Milliardo cut himself off again.

_Who you what, Majesty?_ Milliardo hadn’t quite turned him loose yet, only releasing his grip slightly to allow Duo to look up at him while he spoke. He winced at Duo’s barb; the squirt was taking away his status as his foster father.

_If only he knew…_ Milliardo hated himself for having to continue the lie. He straightened and with a snap of his tentacle, he finally shoved Duo back, needing a moment to compose himself. The resentment in his son’s eyes, so much like his mother’s, stabbed him in the heart. The manacle around Duo’s wrist glowed briefly, and Duo clawed at it in irritation. _Don’t try to tamper with it. It’s keyed into your biologic signature and nervous system. It’s a tracker._

_So you truly don’t trust me anymore._ Duo’s voice in Milliardo’s ears sounded flat and hard. 

_You won’t be able to stray far from the dome without an alarm going off in the security suite._ Milliardo neglected to tell him about the bracelet’s other capabilities, specifically a hypnotic suggestion it automatically planted in Duo’s mind, programming him to report home when he ventured too far from the dome’s perimeter. It also contained a mechanism to shock him with a mild electric charge if he tried to remove it.

Without another word, Duo left his father’s chamber. Zechs tried to dart after him to clout him for his lack of respect, but Milliardo stopped him with a tug of his long, flaxen hair. _No. Let him go. He needs to simmer for a while and think about the implications of what I had to do._

_He’s wily, Father. He’s a tough-headed squirt. He’ll get loose._

_I’m all out of ideas._

_I wish there was another way, Father. He hates us both, now._

_No. Let me bear this burden, Zechs. It’s the least that I deserve._ Zechs scowled. 

_Father, what-_

_Go. Leave me._ Zechs nodded briefly and exited the chamber, deciding that he needed a session with his father’s militia, and hopefully, some time with Noin to vent. 

___Milliardo settled back into his throne, restless and moody. Then, he began to remember, reopening the old wounds and miring himself in the pain he saw reflected in his son’s eyes._ _ _

___His son. His second heir._ _ _

___Duo was, truthfully, Milliardo’s blood by birth._ _ _

___*_ _ _

___ _

___Quatre was drunk. One tap of his teeth told him as much; they were numb beneath the contact. He chuckled to himself, and he was glad that Rashid wasn’t there to chide him. Heero would no doubt be shaking his head at him if he’d joined him in slumming, but Quatre took the hint and continued to avoid calling his stoic friend. Being rebuffed once, albeit politely, was more than enough._ _ _

___Quatre spent the first hour of his jaunt playing pool by himself, pleased that he’d lost none of his skills acquired during college. He sank the striped balls first, favoring the corner pockets. His aim faltered slightly after his third gin and tonic, but some of the onlookers were still impressed, both with his skill and his wholesome, boyish good looks._ _ _

___Women and men gradually began to flirt with him, and he enjoyed the attention, but he didn’t turn on the charm. The thought of sex with a stranger didn’t appeal to him, even though a few faces and bodies tempted him. He’d always loved the tiny bar, “L2,” for its darkened interior and casual dress code. It was the perfect place to unwind. Once in a while, Quatre indulged and danced until the soles of his feet screamed and throbbed, but he wasn’t among friends. It just wasn’t the same._ _ _

___It still felt good to blow off some steam._ _ _

___L2 boasted live entertainment that night, specifically labeled “A Little Night Music” on the club’s posters out front. He didn’t glance closely at the name of the musician, but his curiosity was piqued when he saw the club’s staff wheeling out a baby grand piano. A smile toyed with the corners of his mouth as he switched to beer, tipping the waitress with a twenty, to her delight. The crowd grew, and he lost interest in the pool tables, instead wandering over to an empty table. A few people asked to join him, and he nodded that it was fine, but they took all of the spare chairs but one and migrated to a gaggle of sorority girls two tables away. Quatre shrugged to himself._ _ _

___He didn’t regret being alone much longer as the club’s manager tapped the mic and did a brief sound check. “How we doin’?” The crowd clapped and whistled in anticipation of the act. “Show some love for tonight’s featured guest on the piano, Mr. Trowa Barton. Give him a hand!”_ _ _

___Quatre promptly choked on his Samuel Adams, and a young man paused by his table and whacked him on the back. “You okay, buddy?”_ _ _

___“I’m *kaff* fine,” he sputtered, nodding up at him with watery eyes. The man clapped him on the arm._ _ _

___“Take it easy,” he suggested, glancing down at his beer. “Hope ya aren’t driving.”_ _ _

___“No,” Quatre assured him, but his attention was drawn back to the piano and the tall, chestnut-haired hunk who seated himself gracefully on the bench. He pulled out his sheet music and winked to the crowd, giving them the merest hint of a smile. Then his fingers stroked the keys, and Quatre sat, rapt, growing lost in the music._ _ _

___He was even better than the day he heard him in the hospital lounge. Trowa’s fingers danced over the keys, and Quatre watched his body gently moving to the music, eyes closing in pleasure as the melody sang through him. His hair’s long, slightly messy bangs still fell into his eyes, and he impatiently tossed them back._ _ _

___The first two songs were classical, a risk for this crowd that preferred speed punk music or hip-hop, but the crowd listened approvingly to Trowa’s rendition of Beethoven, before he segued into Tchaikovsky. He continued with a few show tunes, making Quatre’s smile spread widely. The club’s soft lightening caught the sweat building up on Trowa’s cheeks and neck, making it glisten, and Quatre watched him with a pang of longing. His long, slim fingers made him wonder how it would feel to be stroked by them, to feel those fingertips outline the crest of his cheek or comb through his hair…_ _ _

___Shit. He was back to fantasizing about him like a puppy. Quatre hated the flush that rose up in his cheeks and the way his skin tingled in response to the music and the man playing it as if it was second nature. His fingers tapped his knee to the melody, pausing when Trowa began graceful runs across the keys. Quatre shivered. _He’s so good.__ _ _

___The last chord reverberated through him, and only then did Quatre remember to breathe. He broke out of his trance when the crowd broke out in applause, only realizing then that Trowa finished his songs. He rose to his feet and joined in the ovation, boldly whistling with his thumb and fingers tucked into the corners of his mouth. A few onlookers glanced at him with amusement, but he didn’t care. When he sat back down, he almost felt limp, exhilarated and satisfied with the experience._ _ _

___The manager announced a drink special, and he added that Trowa would be on hand to take requests for the next half hour, before the DJ started his set. Several women hovered around the piano, taking their turns to approach him. They tucked dollar bills into a large beer mug atop the piano, and Trowa offered them mischievous smiles as he obliged them with the song of their choice. Some were unremarkable; Quatre recognized some Billy Joel and John Mayer, which was fine with him. He was thrilled when his next one was “Clocks” by Coldplay, one of his favorites, and Quatre was additionally surprised when Trowa accompanied his playing with his voice._ _ _

___He was a decent singer, not remarkable, but what Quatre appreciated was the low, mellow timbre of his voice and the way he merely complemented the notes of his song, rather than letting his voice overpower them. An older man requested more Beethoven, and Trowa acquiesced with no less enthusiasm than he had the other contemporary songs. Quatre didn’t realize how closely he’d begun to hover to the piano until he was just a few feet away. The other half of his beer hovered forgotten in his hand, and he fished in his leather jacket pocket for his wallet._ _ _

___Trowa felt eyes staring at him intently, and it was a familiar sensation. The crowd around his piano parted slightly, and his gaze zeroed in on the handsome blond in black leather and denim. The jeans were Calvin Klein, even though they’d been “distressed” to make them look well broken-in, and he wore a black Lycra North Face tee under his jacket. The severe black created a startling contrast to his fair, creamy skin and towhead locks. Trowa automatically held up a hand of apology to the brunette beside him holding up a dollar for a request, and he glanced past her to Quatre._ _ _

___“Hey.”_ _ _

___“Hey…Trowa, wasn’t it?”_ _ _

___“Still is,” he shrugged, motioning for Quatre to come closer. “What’d you like to hear?”_ _ _

___“Whatever your favorite is,” he suggested. Trowa twisted his body around to peer up at him, and he sniffed the air, noticing the scent of gin and expensive cologne. He sighed, trying not to sound despondent._ _ _

___He knew it. Just another rich boy, slumming in the wrong neighborhood. He’d guessed as much when he got a good look at him in the coffee shop, but there was something unaffected and disarming in Quatre’s manner, his shyness that seemed so genuine._ _ _

___“Can I set this down?” Quatre asked._ _ _

___“Not here,” Trowa told him, reaching for the beer. He took it from him, and Quatre’s body temperature shot up another five degrees when Trowa’s fingertips grazed his. It skyrocketed when he tipped back the mug and downed the rest of it in one swallow. He set the empty mug on the floor beside the bench. “I don’t have a coaster, and the piano’s not mine. I respect instruments, and I try to take care of them when people let me play.” His voice sounded proud. Quatre eyes reflected amusement, and he nodded._ _ _

___“My bad. How about that song?” He unfolded his billfold, but he was surprised when Trowa’s hand reached out to stop him, not allowing him to pull the crisp notes from the pocket. He shivered at his touch and gentle but insistent grip._ _ _

___“This one’s on the house.”_ _ _

___“Let me tip you,” Quatre argued._ _ _

___“Let me treat you,” Trowa countered, and he made a dismissive gesture with his hand, removing their fleeting contact, and Quatre shook his head, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. He leaned the heel of his hand against the ledge, and Trowa poised his fingers over the keys. “Let me know if you remember this one. Or let me know if I’m slaughtering it.” Quatre grinned, and Trowa decided he liked his smile and the way it lit up his face._ _ _

___He was stunning. Up close, his eyes were aquamarine and fringed with thick, sandy lashes. He had firm, slightly arched brows that always seemed to look amused, and his profile was classic and European, even though he spoke with a faint accent that almost sounded…Middle Eastern? It was a subtle burr, and his voice was a soft tenor. Quatre was medium height and slender as a reed, thanks to a fast metabolism and hours spent in the gym playing racquetball or basketball with Heero. Quatre’s smile drifted to a look of surprise when the opening bars of “Criminal” by Fiona Apple reached his ears. It was one of his favorites._ _ _

___Trowa glanced up once in a while to see how Quatre was reacting to his choice of song, and he didn’t expect his look of awe. Trowa’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed, hoping Quatre didn’t notice the effect he was having on him, looking at him like that. He felt a little tingle run over his flesh._ _ _

___He didn’t sing this time, not wanting to ruin it, particularly the opening “I’ve been a bad, bad girl” lyrics, knowing they’d sound comical coming from his mouth, but Quatre didn’t mind._ _ _

___“You still won’t let me tip you?” he murmured as Trowa played the closing bars._ _ _

___“No,” he insisted dryly. “Your money’s no good here.” Quatre arched one brow and shrugged._ _ _

___“That’s fine.” He reached back in his pocket for his wallet._ _ _

___“Stubborn, much?” Trowa asked, not knowing whether to be annoyed._ _ _

___With a deft flick of his hand, Quatre whipped out a business card and tossed it into Trowa’s tip jar. “Then how about dinner?”_ _ _

___Quatre knew it was the gin and tonic talking. He was never that bold, but he didn’t want to rely on random chance to see Trowa again._ _ _

___“Maybe.” Quatre licked his lips, suddenly dry, and he nodded._ _ _

___“Maybe, then. Later, Trowa.”_ _ _

___As he watched the blond walk off, Trowa’s eyes darted to his ass, snuggled lovingly by those stupid jeans. Inwardly, he kicked himself._ _ _

___*_ _ _

___Heero stared out across the harbor, listening to the bark of the sea lions as they feasted on the entrails and chum left behind by the fish trawlers once they’d cleaned their day’s catch. The scent of low tide was ripe, almost flatulent, but he didn’t mind; a strong breeze was blowing in, promising a good storm. He shrugged more deeply into his hooded windbreaker, shivering against the draft that crept down the back of his neck._ _ _

___Q hadn’t called him for the past few days. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. Heero knew it was probably time to crawl at this point. He shouldn’t have snapped at his best friend._ _ _

___He’d made some progress in the meantime with his insurance company. They replaced his cameras, and he was glad he’d purchased a generous policy against loss or destruction of his property._ _ _

___It was frustrating, being land-locked without his yacht. Heero craved the deep, wishing he could immerse himself in it and put the daily grind behind him for a while. He was tired of being cooped up in his house, an easy victim for telemarketers and fundraising calls, and being subjected to drop-in visits from Relena. He humored her, but he never encouraged her overtures, and his goodbyes were always perfunctory and brief._ _ _

___*_ _ _

___Today was no different. She breezed inside as soon as he opened the door, hanging up her purse from the hook in his foyer. “…took you long enough to answer me. I knocked for a while. I need to use your bathroom.”_ _ _

___“Um…hi?” Heero’s nose wrinkled at the scent of her perfume, rich with jasmine. It smelled nice enough, but it teased his sinuses, promising him a migraine by the time she left._ _ _

___“What are you doing today?” she demanded from the other side of the bathroom door. Heero found himself shouting over the sound of the fan inside, arms folded and feeling foolish; he could certainly wait for her to come out and be a less awkward audience for whatever plan she proposed. There was nothing worse than trying to hold up your end of the conversation and listening to someone taking a piss._ _ _

___“Nothing,” he muttered._ _ _

___“Hold on, I can’t hear you,” she scolded over the sound of the flush._ _ _

___“Gads…”_ _ _

___“Let me just wash my hands, hold on.” He knew she was using his bath towel to dry her hands, instead of the roll of paper towels he kept in there, and it made him snort with disgust. It was one more pet peeve that he could add to the pile of why they broke up. His towel was his towel. You could keep your germs, and Heero could keep his. She came out and gave him a peck on his lean cheek. “Why aren’t you wearing a sweater? Put on that nice hoodie I gave you,” she suggested._ _ _

___“I’m not cold.”_ _ _

___“Liar. Your hands feel like ice.” She took one of them and rubbed it briskly and breathed over his fingers, which gave him that little shiver that ran up his back that he actually liked, but she knew that. He politely freed himself and nodded for her to sit on his couch._ _ _

___“I’m fine. I was just about to make lunch.”_ _ _

___“I was just about to see if you wanted to eat out. Come with me. I hate going alone.”_ _ _

___“Get take-out,” he shrugged casually._ _ _

___“No. I want to go out to a restaurant, but I hate having to say ‘Table for one.’ It sucks.” Heero chuckled._ _ _

___“Yeah.”_ _ _

___“Come out with me.”_ _ _

___“I was just going to fix some noodles.”_ _ _

___“Oh. That actually sounds good.” Heero sighed._ _ _

___“Want to stay for some noodles?”_ _ _

___“I’ll help chop. And let me get these dishes out of the way.” There were hardly any in the sink, and his counters were spotless, but she made it sound like he hadn’t done the washing up in a week. Heero’s house was meticulously neat. Relena’s attempt at giving it some “homey” (feminine) touches failed miserably. The oven mitts and dish towels with little yellow geese on them were shoved into the kitchen drawer and seldom used. Multiple houseplants she’d forced on him died of neglect on his sill, except for a hearty little aloe plant and a tiny cactus. Both suited him well, but he’d never say it out loud. Heero just was who he was._ _ _

___Lunch was actually pleasant. They chatted easily while she chopped the cabbage, sprouts, carrots, snow peas and scallions and while Heero prepared the marinade. They ate at the table with Heero’s music playing softly in the background._ _ _

___“I wanted to kidnap you to go see a movie.”_ _ _

___“You said you didn’t want to eat lunch alone.”_ _ _

___“I don’t want to go to the movies by myself, either.”_ _ _

___“You could have called up Q.”_ _ _

___“I did. He was out. He’s been hard to reach. Even when I called him when I knew he’d be home from work last weekend, Rashid said he was out.”_ _ _

___“Hn.” Heero wasn’t expecting that._ _ _

___“Yeah. I know. Heard anything back on the boat?”_ _ _

___“Still in the shop. But I got my cameras back.”_ _ _

___“They found them?”_ _ _

___“Nope. New ones. Same kind.” Heero ate quickly, keeping his mouth full enough to not have to say much._ _ _

___“Oh, good.” She sounded relieved. “Now you won’t have to worry.”_ _ _

___“I’m going back to work once I get the Zero back.” Her smile fell._ _ _

___“That’s ridiculous.”_ _ _

___“No. It’s what I do. I need to finish my assignments.”_ _ _

___“You have other contracts and clients that don’t make you dive and risk your life.”_ _ _

___“It’s my life,” he shrugged. His dark blue eyes sparked with irritation and he sighed. “Don’t give me this shit again, Relena.”_ _ _

___“Sure. Why should I? You don’t listen.”_ _ _

___“It’s nothing you haven’t told me before.” He got up and cleared his plate, even though he wasn’t finished. Heero scraped his portion back into the pot and searched his cabinet for a Tupperware container. “If I want to dive, I’ll dive.”_ _ _

___“You were nearly killed.”_ _ _

___“While I was on my boat. Not while I was diving. It’s not the same thing.”_ _ _

___“Your equipment could fail.”_ _ _

___“I always check my equipment. Fei’s going with me.” And at great personal expense. His other former lover already read him the riot act for wanting to get back under so quickly after his injuries._ _ _

___“Of course he is.” Now her tone sounded resentful. She followed him into the kitchen and set her plate on the counter. Relena automatically began scraping the contents of the skillet into the container, but Heero pried the handle from her grip and finished the chore. She tsked in disgust. “Be that way.”_ _ _

___“It’s my kitchen. I’ll clean up the mess. Go sit down.”_ _ _

___“I want to help you.”_ _ _

___“I don’t need any help.” He forced his voice to sound casual, but his jaw felt tense, and he made little eye contact as he moved about the kitchen, dusting past her and in effect, treating her like an obstacle._ _ _

___“So that’s a no on the movie?” He expelled a breath._ _ _

___“I’m just tired,” he offered, glad that she took the hint._ _ _

___“I just thought you might like some time out of the house.”_ _ _

___“Maybe next time.”_ _ _

___His words hung in the air between them, buoyed by the thick tension that rose up as soon as he mentioned the words _I’m going back to work.__ _ _

___“That’s fine. Call me.”_ _ _

___“Sure.”_ _ _

___It wasn’t really a lie. _Sure_ , he _could_ call her. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, flooding his personal space with her cloying cologne again._ _ _

___“Put on a sweater.”_ _ _

___“Okay.” She didn’t wait for him to let her out, but he followed her to the door to be polite. “G’night.” She answered him her retreating back, waving over her shoulder at him. Heero shook his head and sighed._ _ _

___*_ _ _

___His thoughts came back to his rescuer. He couldn’t get the soft voice and it’s odd, lilting accent out of his mind. What had happened to him? The Coast Guard had no clues for him; they were just as baffled by the mystery diver’s disappearance, and Heero feared that he drowned. Regret swamped him that his rescue could have cost another man his life. The sunset mocked him again with its deep, rich hues as fiery red melted into cobalt blue. _No one has eyes that color._ Heero stood out on the pier and skipped the handful of pebbles he’d collected from the beach. Some skimmed across the waves two, three, four times before sinking into the surf with a tiny plop._ _ _

___It was a nuisance not having his wallet. He was still waiting for his replacement ID and Social Security card, insurance cards, credit and debit cards, but he was frustrated at the loss of his photographs. Heero had few tangible reminders of his father once he disowned him; he didn’t take much more than his clothing, his computer, and a few personal items and toiletries when he moved out of his father’s manor-style country home._ _ _

___He loved his father, and it tore him apart when he told him he couldn’t tolerate his son’s preferences and his “lifestyle choice,” as if Heero could actually _decide_ on something that was instinctive to him and a part of who he was. When Heero received the call that he had passed away, his appearance at the funeral was perfunctory, and he felt like a stranger among his family and his father’s acquaintances. The opulent surroundings of the formal living room weren’t natural or familiar to him anymore. He let his eyes roam over the framed family pictures like a visitor in a museum._ _ _

___Heero bought himself a corn dog from a nearby vendor and sat on the dock with his MP3’s earbuds plugged in, watching the stars slowly stud the darkening sky._ _ _


	10. On the Surface, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo tests his limits. See previous chapter.
> 
> Author’s Note: Sorry to break it up. I’m working with stingy time constraints and a lot of “real life” stuff going on. A LOT. If I don’t get back to this right away, or even for months, then it isn’t for lack of wanting to continue this for the people who like it. It just means I’m occupied.

The first thing Duo did was find the wallet in his chamber, tucked away in a trunk of odds and ends. It wasn’t any the worse for wear. He crammed it into a tiny pouch on his belt before he anchored it around his waist. He darted around the chamber, but he couldn’t find the scrimshaw knife. He knew his father probably had it, and he didn’t want to risk his wrath by demanding it back.

Duo had enough of being told what to do.

Once again, he armed himself with a wrist harpoon, but he chose small darts that Noin engineered that were infused with a special nerve toxin derived from blowfish excretions. Better safe than sorry if he ran into mersharks again, and it wouldn’t help to let them get so close if he could avoid it.

He contemplated the shackle sensor, noticing that it wasn’t glowing now. _Probably because I’m still tucked away in the dome,_ he thought sourly. He spun it idly around his wrist, knowing it wouldn’t do to tamper with it. But in the meantime, it was futile to stay where he was considered to be such a liability. Duo had no clue what his future held. He knew that succeeding Milliardo was out of the question. He wasn’t blood, and he wasn’t even the oldest sibling in his family. That left Duo at a loose end.

Duo was a live-mater, no less, and a half-breed. If he wasn’t Milliardo’s ward, he would have been an outcast, lower than chum among the community housed in the dome. _I never asked for this._ Resolute, Duo made his way from his chamber and flitted toward the main hall. His father’s servants nodded to him, and some of them even looked sympathetic as they noticed the gleaming shackle. 

The guards asked for him to show his scale. He held it up and stared sullenly into their faces. The eel-tailed sentries bristled slightly, but they gave him no resistance, and they slithered apart from each other as they opened the gates. Duo nodded a goodbye, glad they didn’t question him on his reasons for leaving the dome.

His only plan was to test the limits of the shackle and to find out how far he could go before he tripped the sensor and alerted the palace guard. From there, it was only a question of how he could avoid electrocuting himself to death. _This should be fun…_ Grimly, he realized that Zechs might not mind if he pushed the envelope too far. His relationship with Zechs had always been grudging at best, and uneasy and stifling at worst. Zechs wasn’t much older than Duo; the palace guard delivered him into Milliardo’s care and guardianship when he was a mere squirt, only a few decades old in human years. His fingers had still been webbed and his eyes hadn’t shed their opaque, protective film yet. Zechs automatically resented him, once Milliardo declared that they would share a chamber. But Milliardo wanted them to grow close and develop the strong bond of true siblings, and it wouldn’t happen if Zechs was given too many opportunities to ignore his new foster brother.

Duo gradually grew accustomed to life in the palace, far more lavish than he was accustomed to while his mother was still alive. He still dreamt about her, and it felt like the object of his strongest yearnings was torn from his grasp when Une’s spell over him was broken. _Maybe it would have been better for everyone if she’d gotten me,_ he mused. _Zechs sure would have been happier._ Then he chided himself.

_He cares. Idiot. He meant well. And he was just doing what Father told him._ Duo’s restless thoughts followed him as he made his way through the grotto. He enjoyed the precious feeling of freedom, even though he knew it was fleeting, and that it could be ripped from his hands at any moment.

The bracelet buzzed slightly and emitted a light shock. Duo hissed. _Damn thing’s already snitching on me._ But he ignored it, still not content with his trek. He needed a truer test of its limits. Sunlight filtered through the depths, making the water above him appear a deep, shifting green shot through with gold.

_The surface._

He removed the wallet from his pouch again and fingered the leather. _Heero._ The name and those amazing blue eyes still lingered in his memory, as well as the feel of his skin, so smooth and firm. Duo remembered the feel of his weakened yet rapid heartbeat and the sound of his voice, so odd to hear it coming from his mouth. All of the sounds of the surface world were sharp and unfamiliar to Duo; everything somehow seemed louder and less muffled. There was no buffer that the sea afforded him to block it out. Initially, the sound of Heero’s boat’s motor assaulted his senses.

He wondered if Heero thought of him.

Duo dismissed it. The human would probably prefer to forget that night and nearly dying in the waves, but Duo couldn’t help but feel wistful. What kind of life did Heero live? What kind of man was his father, the man in the picture with him? What would he think of Duo if they met again? He burned with curiosity, but the ocean was a vast place, as was the surface. Who knew if they’d ever meet again.

_Youngling._ The voice was low at first, and it startled Duo. He whirled around, looking for its source.

_Who’s there?_

_We’ve come to beg your presence, young prince._ Duo watched incredulously as two young caecelii came swimming out of a crevice in the reef, freeing themselves from the thick rushes of seaweed. He recoiled; they were homely, miserable things with their pallid skin from the waist up. Impressive, billowing tentacles unfurled, bunched, then unfurled again in the sinuous, almost hypnotic way that characterized how they swam. Their lower bodies were a deep, brackish violet, and their underbellies were a mottled, pale gray. They eyed Duo without malice, but he sensed their grim purpose in their expressions and bloodshot eyes.

_What do you want from me?_

_It’s what our mistress wants, Prince Duo. We bid you, come with us. Come to the caverns._

_Have the geysers steamed your brains? No! I’d never make a guppy move like that! Tell Lady Une thanks, but no thanks._

_She’s your kin, young prince,_ the smaller of them protested, gesturing with her long, spindly fingers to come.

_The hell she is,_ he argued sourly. He watched them warily, backing off when they continued to approach him. Their eyes flitted to his wrist harpoon warily, but they smiled at him disarmingly.

_Mistress wishes to make you an offer. Let her show you her hospitality._

_How? By letting her fillet me? Or brainwash me again? Better yet, why don’t I wait for her to finish what she started by killing my brother when he comes after me again? Sounds like a fun-filled afternoon…I’ll pass._ The caecelii eyed each other, expressions hardening with determination. Duo turned his back on them, but he felt an odd slithering sensation at his waist. _What…hey!_ The long tendril that tapered from the end of the taller maiden’s tentacle looped around his belt and pulled, jerking it free. She snatched it away from him before he could grab it, and she met his glare with a smooth, satisfied smile.

_Finders, keepers._

_Give that BACK!_

_Come with us,_ she shrugged as they both darted away. Anger rose up into Duo’s chest. He took aim with his wrist harpoon and missed the interlopers by a hair.

_Damn it! Get back here! COME BACK HERE!_ But they picked up speed, covering more breadth more quickly with their multiple tentacles. The one holding his belt grinned back over her shoulder triumphantly. Duo fired again, but his dart disappeared in a cloud of noxious ink. Duo gagged as it enveloped him, wanting to vomit as he choked on its bitterness. But he followed them, focusing only on getting the wallet back.

Duo felt the low shock from the bracelet, and it made him fret. _Great. Just what I need._ What if his proximity to the caverns triggered the bracelet’s alarms? He swam faster, taxing his muscles to their limit, and they discharged another blot of ink into the water. He kept his eyes focused on their tentacles and lank brown hair, barely able to distinguish their tentacles from their pale limbs in the dark murk. 

Duo panicked when he felt a rash of stinging prickles sweep over his flesh. _Jellyfish!_ He saw their gleaming bodies swirl out toward him, right before they pricked him and burned him with their poisonous touch. Duo sickened as the venom began to work its way through his system. But he kept swimming hell for leather, feeling his lungs burn. He was so close to his prey…

…but he didn’t realize that he was now _theirs._

He neared the caverns and braced himself. _That’s not yours! I’ll make you pay for this!_

_You’re welcome to try, young prince,_ one of the maidens teased back. _Enjoy your visit._ That was the last thing he remembered before a large man-o-war loomed out from the rushes and engulfed him. Duo screamed in agony at the burning acid it exuded. It penetrated his nervous system, paralyzing his muscles, and he went limp, unable to even writhe in pain.

He blacked out. Duo never even felt the webbed, taloned hands that wrapped around his wrists and tangled in his hair before he was dragged away.

The shackle gave off a series of shocks, glowing each time, but his captors ignored it. Une could deal with the troublesome little thing however she chose; it didn’t matter to her minions. They’d done as she commanded, avoiding her wrath for another day. The shocks illuminated the dark walls of her cavern with brief flashes of light as Duo was dragged inside, farther, deeper. Gaggles of mersharks eyed him smugly, satisfied at the sight of him incapacitated and helpless. He looked delicious.

Une waited patiently in her throne chamber, pleased at how little effort it took her pets to bring him to her. _Stubborn little wretch. Just like his father. But he’s so much more fun to play with. Has more spunk. Gets it from his mother._

_Where would you like him, Mistress?_

_Over there. Bind him up._ Duo was hauled toward a wall outfitted with an enormous set of shelves containing various jars and containers full of gruesome, terrible specimens and elixirs. Some held live, pulsing organs of her minions or victims whom she’d eviscerated for their failures. Some were trophies, here an eye, there a finger, sometimes torn fragments of tailfins. Une kept most of them as trophies, but others she retained for use in her experiments and spells.

Duo never stirred when he was bound to the wall using a set of iron shackles. A mean-looking, barbed collar was fastened around his neck, allowing only scarce movement. Une rose from her throne and wallowed through her chamber smoothly, in no hurry. She hummed to herself as she considered the potions and various implements as she dug through a large chest. She reached inside and found an item she’d almost forgotten about. She smiled as she held it up to the dim light, turning it this way and that. Yes. This would do nicely, indeed.

_Can we have him now, Mistress?_

_No!_ She lashed out at the mershark who’d crept into her den, lingering over her shoulder. He was licking his lips at the sight of the young, healthy prince, slavering over the succulent, sweet blood he knew coursed through his veins. He arched in pain as her tentacle darted out and gouged itself into his throat, puncturing his flesh with a spiked barb. He gurgled in surprise as gouts of ichor flooded the water between him, and his eyes beseeched her. _Don’t get any clever ideas. He’s mine. Let your brothers and sisters learn from your folly._ She cast him out, hurling him from her chamber. Several caecelii watching grimaced, but two mersharks swam up and hauled his twitching body away. Une smiled to herself once her chamber door was sealed; she heard the sounds of her minions enjoying their fresh, unexpected feast from outside.

She turned back to Duo, taking in his piquant beauty undisturbed. She ran her fingers through his tresses, appreciating its rich color. _Magnificent,_ she murmured. Yes. So much like his mother. His body was compact and lean, with the same bone structure. His lips were full and rosy pink, and he was long-limbed and graceful, although he was much shorter than his foster brother.

His half-brother, she corrected herself. Foolish Milliardo. So noble and misguided. Hiding the truth to protect Duo from her had only brought about his own ruin by thrusting him into her hands. Milliardo had always been so easy to manipulate. He thought she was out of sight, out of mind when he banished her from the dome and rose to power over Sanq. She brooded sourly over the memories of those darker days, when she was ousted and her followers were cast out with her.

The caverns were her territory, home to the sea’s predators and all who owed Une their allegiance. Une was the stuff of merfolk legend and squirts’ nightmares, looming vast and terrible in the darkness, spreading evil and poison wherever she drifted and promising nothing but doom to any who pleaded her favor. Une was a sorceress, practicing forgotten, dark magicks, one more reason why she was banished. Too many of Milliardo’s followers fell prey to her whims, not least of which was Duo’s mother.

Sheila Maxwell was a marine biologist, only twenty-two when they first met. Milliardo was a juvenile male, out hunting with two of his father’s cadets when he encountered something – or someone – struggling in the rushes. A scuba diver. Milliardo was horrified when he discovered that it was a human, garbed in an odd suit of some thick, rubbery feeling substance. Frightened violet eyes stared out at him from behind a clear mask. The creature’s movements were awkward as she tried to free her tank from where it stuck, wedged and trapping her.

He managed to free her, but she was tired from the effort. Milliardo ignored his cadets’ warnings and ordered them to escort her back to the surface, swimming back more quickly than she would have managed herself on her dwindling air supply.

They burst through the surface of the water, shocked at the feel of the frigid, salty air. Despite his cadets’ protests, Milliardo dragged the diver over the edge of her boat, disoriented by the sound of its noisy motor and the rumble of its hull. She collapsed, heaving and struggling to free herself of the constrictive mask. When she succeeded, her long spill of chestnut hair tumbled down her back, and her face peered up into his. Eyes the shade of the rim of a quahog shell stared up at him, searching his for answers. “Thank you,” she breathed, raising her hand in greeting. The male with long, platinum hair plastered against his neck and back and compelling, silver-green eyes stared at her from where he hoisted himself against the ledge. She couldn’t see any of him from the ribcage down, and therefore didn’t realize how remarkable her savior was, indeed…

Milliardo didn’t know what to say. He nodded, then disappeared back into the waves.

But the damage was already done. She’d captivated him.

She returned to him, more than once, on her various dives to the same coordinates. Some days, she merely let her motor idle while he came to her. They learned to communicate via sign language. She spoke to him simply because he seemed to enjoy the sound of her lilting voice. She could swim without her apparatus, he learned, but she needed it to move about underwater. That irked him; it was so cumbersome, and so limited.

But he enjoyed their sojourns and treks together in the deep. She could feel him, more than hear him when he communicated with her telepathically. He showed her the reef and the caverns, protecting her with his charges and making sure they had an escort from his father’s guard when they explored the area outside the dome. She came to love the grotto for its beauty and endless discoveries.

And she came to love Milliardo, not knowing that she’d sealed her fate.

*

Une enjoyed an infusion of wine while she waited for Duo to wake. She heard his low groan in her head and smiled. Poor dearie…

_Rise and shine, sweet nephew._ Duo’s eyes were bleary and confused. The chamber around him was eerily dark and unfamiliar, and the voice was too sweet and feminine. He knew it wasn’t Noin.

_Uhhnnnh…_

He ached. He felt the welts rising on his skin from the jellyfish venom, and his muscles throbbed from his arduous swim. Something was chafing his wrists and neck. Dimly he remembered the shackle, and that stirred him fully awake. _Damn it!_ Panic filled him when he tried to shift himself and found that he couldn’t.

_Don’t waste your time. Relax. We have a lot of catching up to do, dearie._

_You,_ Duo whispered, aghast. His eyes widened at he stared his fill of Une in all of her terrible glory. She was at once hauntingly beautiful and hideous at the same time. Shrewd, cold gray eyes stared out at him. Her light brown hair was bound up in plaits that reminded him of his fathers, but hers were more tangled and wild, entwined with bits of seaweed and crawling with tiny minnows and hermit crabs. Her features were patrician and her skin was pale, translucent to the point of being able to see her blood vessels. She had prominent gills and slightly fanged teeth, not unlike her shark minions, and she was nude, eschewing any bodice or bandeau to shield her assets. Her nipples lacked any rosy tinge; they were a strange, dingy tan, and Duo cringed at the sight of the silver, spiked ring anchored through one, clearly an ornament.

_Who else would it be? Who did you expect? Make yourself comfortable, if you can. Plan to stay a while._

_Father will find me!_

_Don’t be so sure. Wait, you mean because of this?_ Une smirked as she indicated the glowing bauble around Duo’s wrist. _Useless flotsam._ She snaked out her tentacle toward it and sinuously wrapped it around the metal. Duo writhed away from her to avoid her unnerving touch.

_Get away from me! Don’t touch me!_ he hissed. The bracelet emitted a shock, this one stronger than any of the last, no doubt because of Duo’s distance from the dome’s perimeter.

_You’re in no position to make demands, nephew. Now hold still._ Then she added, _Easier said than done, however…_ She manipulated the bracelet while he struggled, and Duo was suddenly bathed in electricity that tore through his nerve endings, engulfing every pain receptor in his body. He screamed long and uncharacteristically shrill, body wracked in spasms while she tinkered with the sensor in the bracelet. _Poor dear,_ she tutted in his mind. If she couldn’t make it painless, than she would be quick, she mused.

The bracelet stopped glowing and fell to the ocean floor, inert and deactivated. _There. That’s much nicer, don’t you think?_ Duo didn’t respond. He jerked and twitched, struggling to breathe until finally, his body lay still on the floor of the chamber. Tendrils of his chestnut hair fluttered over his pale cheeks.


	11. Like Oxygen, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo and Heero get their heart’s desire, or so they think.
> 
> Author’s Note: I cringe when I look at the date stamps of my Word document files on my hard drive. I haven’t touched this in over a year, but I have fics of different fandoms that haven’t been touched in five. That’s depressing. I truly have tapestry syndrome. I think I only actually finish one fic a year now.
> 
> If you’re still reading, I’m picking back up where I left off. Heero is recovering from his injuries and close call. Duo is trapped in Une’s caverns. Quatre has just met a beautiful musician, and Zechs is looking for his brother. That’s a recap. Hope it’s helpful.

Duo’s vision was hazy, and he felt unease settle over him, the way prey senses the predator watching it, licking its chops in anticipation. He tasted a foul, tainted tinge in the water, recognizing it as ink.

Ink. He jolted awake and tried to propel himself up from his pod, only to be greeted by the burn of his arm muscles as they were wrenched by his movements. He was shackled in sturdy, rusted iron manacles. A flood of bubbles burst from his lips as he struggled. Duo’s mind stewed with scenarios and action plans, knowing he might already be too late. Cold dread squeezed his heart, and he felt it pounding in his ears.

Une had him. He was helpless and as good as dead. His eyes adjusted to the darkness in the cavern, and it didn’t look any better than it had before. The walls were slick and rank with algae and viscous deposits, swarming with krill, tiny minnows and hermit crabs. The sight of the tiny creatures made him physically itch. He felt further revulsion by the odd profusion of shelves loaded with vials, jars and tiny chests, their contents he could only guess; they boggled the darkest recesses of his imagination.  
Mean looking tools and instruments littered a work table, boasting pointed blades and spines. Duo felt sick, even though his stomach was growling. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. He wondered if anyone knew he was gone…

The bracelet! His eyes jerked toward his shackled wrist. It was gone! Duo felt a mixture of confusion and relief. He was free! He was… trapped. His euphoria died immediately, replaced by despair. If the sensor was gone, then his father had no means of finding him, even if the cost of such a security measure was the physical punishment the sensor offered every time he moved out of range.

_Well, well. Good morning, sunshine. I trust you slept well?_ Une purred in his mind. He felt her as well as heard her, barely seeing her voluminous form in the shadows. Piercing gray eyes ate him up amidst the murk concealing her, and Duo shuddered. What’s the matter? You look troubled, dearie.

_What do you want from me?_ Duo demanded. _You don’t want me to get loose!_ His eyes were violet fire, filled with indignant rage, and to her delight, fear. He was a lovely little morsel, wasn’t he?

_It isn’t what I want from you. Not yet. It’s what you want from me._

_I don’t know what you’re talking about, witch._

_Is that any way to talk to family, nephew?_

_You’re no kin of mine._ Duo’s cheeks burned with shame at his words, borne of his recent circumstances. Milliardo felt he was a burden, and who was Duo to argue? He was a foundling, merely fostered alongside Zechs. He had no birthright.

_You’ve labored under that delusion long enough, child. I can see my brother has filled your head with his lies. You deserve the truth._ Slowly Une drifted forward, into the scant light, and Duo wished she hadn’t. She was as hideous as he remembered, and her gray eyes were cold and calculating as she smiled. Briefly she licked her fangs and toyed with one of the shells woven into her plait.

_You can’t offer me the truth. Why should I trust you?_

_What have you got to lose?_

_My life. My dignity. My entrails. My flesh. My soul._ Duo ticked off each one in his head, trying to shield his thoughts. It didn’t help. Une threw back her head and laughed.

_Clever, clever boy._

_Get out of my head!_ Duo thrashed and fought against the chains. Une sighed.

_You’re going to make this hard, aren’t you?_ Quicker than a moray eel, Une’s taloned hand flew out and slapped him. He felt as though he’d swum headlong into the reef and his ears rang. Her talon grazed him and drew blood, which she tasted with relish, inhaling it on a current. She savored it, to his revulsion. _You may address me as Aunt Une. I am your father’s sister. We are blood kin._

_Liar, Duo insisted. Deceiver._

You know it’s true. You can sense the connection between us. I can taste it in your essence. You are your mother’s spawn, certainly, dearie, but you move like your father and you have his cunning. I see his stubborn jaw when I look at you. The same ears. You set your brow the same way when you’re trying to look fierce. She snickered cruelly. _You wish you could bite me like one of my pets… You are Milliardo’s son, Duo. You’re his bastard._

_NO!_ Duo’s pupils dilated. _It’s not true. He wouldn’t keep that from me! I can’t be-!_ His mind reeled, and visions of his life swamped him, questions he asked himself found answers that he must have ignored before, dismissing them as unlikely.

_Uriah wasn’t your sire. He was but a pawn. He died protecting Milliardo’s secret._ Duo choked, feeling shame clog his chest. _It’s not your fault, dearie._

_Leave me alone._ His voice sounded numb and hollow, and Une sighed. He refused to look at her, but she would have his full attention. One of her tentacles slithered up to caress his cheek, and she wrapped it around his slender neck to emphasize her point. His head snapped around at the sudden lack of water flowing through his gills, and his lungs felt like they would burst. His violet eyes went wide with panic. Duo’s tail lashed about, but she shook her head, tsking.

Are you ready to listen to me, nephew? Will you heed me? I have a bargain for you, one I think you’ll like. Duo’s heart pounded, and he felt like his lungs would explode with the need for breath.

I… yield. Instant self-hatred swamped him, radiating from his mind. Une tasted it and moaned with contentment. She would break him, surely. It was only a matter of when. Her tentacle slithered away, releasing him, and Duo reflexively gulped in great draughts of water, nearly choking on it. His blurry vision began to clear and his head throbbed.

You’ve been to the surface. I’ve been watching you, darling. So curious. So inquisitive. You’re like your mother. She was an explorer. A researcher, if you will. She loved it down here. It intrigues you up there, doesn’t it? The surface has a familiar feel, don’t you agree? Did you sense that you belonged there? Duo frowned.

You’re mad.

You can try to deny it. You’re Milliardo’s son, but your mother was human. Doesn’t it puzzle you how she came to spawn you? She loved your father, the poor, foolish thing. She would do anything to bridge the fathoms of the sea that stretched between them. She longed to belong in our world, when he couldn’t dwell in hers. Une drifted back, tentacles swirling, and she turned her back on him to rummage among her shelves. She took down a small vial with a silver neck. The substance inside was a deep, murky red. Duo’s lips peeled back from his teeth in distaste. Une smiled at his grimace and regarded the vial fondly. I took this blood from her veins. We formed a pact. This was also the root of the spell that allowed her to dwell among us. Blood works best for incantations and potions, did you know that? Duo’s stomach knotted and he paled.

What did you do to her?

Why don’t I show you? Her smile was sharklike again, vicious and cunning. I can do the same for you…

You’re talking squid shit. I don’t believe you. There’s nothing you can do for me!

Really? I freed you from that bothersome little trinket that your father shackled you with.

Yet you replaced it with these, Duo reminded her with irritation. Hardly an improvement, from where I’m standing.

Standing? Ah. Yes. A human concept. You need legs to stand, which you don’t currently possess. I can fix that, nephew.

I don’t need fixing! But curiosity nagged at him, and the possibilities developed in his mind unchecked. Her words were nonsensical. It was laughable…

The surface beckoned him. He longed to see the night sky again, dotted with gleaming silver stars. How did the sun feel when it wasn’t merely filtering through the deep, casting streaks of golden lights over the currents? How did it feel to breathe air all the time?

What would it feel like to touch Heero again?

Heero. What a lovely name.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD! A chill ran through him. Damn! She was lurking in his thoughts, slipping past his defenses.

Why? This would be so much easier if you just opened yourself to me, she shrugged. Although perhaps… not nearly as much fun.

What?

It’s time to get to know you better, Duo.

His shriek drowned out all of the other sounds around him. He lived inside his pain, became one with it. She invaded his mind, and it burned, feeling himself torn open, his emotions and secrets spilling free like so much chum and gore.  
*

“You let it get cold again?”

“Hm?”

“It’ll taste like shit if you reheat it again.” Wufei took away Heero’s stagnant cup of coffee and took a brief whiff. He made a face at the cloudy remainder of the creamer that formed a layer of scum on top. “I’m dumping it. Want a fresh one?”  
“No. It won’t help.” Dark smudges under his eyes gave him a haggard look, and Heero still wasn’t eating enough, to Wufei’s jaundiced eye. His lean body began to look gaunt. Despite his efforts to get Heero out of the house and to force a dose of daylight on him every day, he still didn’t sleep. Wufei knew this, because he’d begun staying over at night.

He was more confused about him than ever.

It was a companionable arrangement. The first night that Wufei crept into his room, Heero felt the mattress sag beneath him, waking him from a shallow sleep that did nothing to make him feel rested. He’d thrashed all night in the dark. Frightening visions troubled him. He remembered sharp pain and helplessness, leering faces and being swallowed up by the deep, without his equipment, nearly drowning in the wake of his own boat.

Sometimes, he woke up screaming.

He didn’t protest when familiar arms, toned and corded with lean muscle, wrapped around him from behind. Wufei’s scent comforted him, as well as his slow, even breathing that steamed the back of his neck. Heero had missed this, craved it, even though things had changed so much between them. Wufei took no further liberties. He only shared his warmth and his heartbeat, and Heero’s breathing began to mimic his, slowing and growing more even. He watched the light shift outside until his eyelids grew too heavy to continue. Heero woke up to an empty bed; Wufei left, but only after washing Heero’s dishes and cleaning up the clutter in his living room.

Typical.

Both men were going through slides of the pictures Heero took on his dive. They rented a small yacht nicknamed the Scythe until the Zero was repaired. The man who gave Heero his most recent commission gave him a hefty advance once he saw Heero’s previous work, which helped him stay afloat, literally and figuratively, and to keep food on the table.

A small plate with a sandwich and a glass of orange juice materialized on the table beside him. Heero grunted as his stomach growled at the scent of the food. “Thanks.”

“Eat.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You’re too thin. I’m getting tired of lying up against your bony ass at night,” Wufei muttered. He wasn’t smiling, but his dark eyes held no malice.

“No one said you had to lie up against my bony ass.” Heero took a deep swallow of the juice. “If you’re tired of it, then leave.”

“You won’t get off that easily, Slick.”

“I don’t see you getting off, either. When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“It’s a good subject. Seriously. Quit worrying about me. You’ve got a life, last time I checked. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Yes, you do. And no, I don’t. I don’t have a plus one, and I’m not even really looking for one.” Heero sighed.

“Fei…”

“No. No lectures. You don’t lecture me. I lecture you. You’re the one not taking care of yourself.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Why not?” Wufei paused in washing the empty mug, scrubbing away at the caked-on ring of creamer.

“I feel frozen. Just… trapped. Every night, I’m back on deck, looking down the barrel of a gun.” Heero’s voice changed, deepening, growing desperate, and Wufei set the cup back in the sink. “Everything just went black. I was sinking. Then, I was woke up, and I was floating. Freezing my ass off. It was so dark out… I could hardly see…” Wordlessly, Wufei closed the gap between them, and Heero leaned into him, clinging to him while his stoic ex stroked his hair.

“Idiot. Stop keeping this shit to yourself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing. You were nearly killed. Fuck. That would make it impossible for anyone to sleep at night. Or to function.” Wufei swallowed, but he forced his voice to sound calmer than he felt. “I still need you and your bony ass to stick around a while longer.” Heero took tangible comfort in his warmth and strength, and he let out a shuddery breath. “Stop trying to be so damned strong all the time and let me help you.”

“Don’t go all mushy on me, ‘Fei.” Heero squeezed his eyes shut against the burning, impending threat of tears, but they leaked out, anyway. Wufei heard the catch in his chest and held him more tightly. Heero suffered Wufei’s gruff brand of affection and caring more willingly than Relena’s for the simple fact that he wasn’t trying to change him. Wufei realized that Heero wasn’t in a place yet where he could change, and it was likely that Wufei just wasn’t the right man for the job. The night he realized it, it broke his heart, but he soldiered on, and he remained a stalwart, loyal presence in Heero’s life.

“Idiot.”

“That sounded mushy.” They slowly drew apart. Before releasing him, Wufei swiped at Heero’s tears with his knuckle and patted his cheek in a “buck up” gesture. As usual, the wiry Chinese man’s face was a sober mask, but his eyes were concerned.

“Bastard.”

“That’s better.”

“Eat. I know it’d be a turn-on for me to tie you up and cram it down your throat…”

“Don’t go all Nine and a Half Weeks on me, ‘Fei.” Heero took a large, emphatic bite of the sandwich and waved it at him. “Happy?” he said around the mouthful of bread.

“Ecstatic.”

They continued to review the slides, but Heero still wasn’t satisfied. “I want better shots of the reef.”

“These are fine.”

“They aren’t doing it for me. I like the lampreys.”

“Those alone were worth the dive. He’ll love those shots. I love those shots,” Wufei admitted.

“Fei… remember the day we shot the manta?”

“The day I lost my good knife? Yeah. I’m still pissed. Why?”

“It’s just… nothing. I saw something else down there, at least, I think I did.”

“Like what, sunken treasure?” Wufei scoffed.

“No. Like a face.” Wufei’s arched brows drew together.

“Come again?”

“I saw what looked like human eyes, just as real as yours, staring at me down there.”

“What, like another diver?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. And it’s driving me nuts.”

“Right. It was probably Charlie Tuna. Or the Gorton’s fish stick man.” Heero wound up a dish towel, rat-tailed it and swatted Wufei in the ass.

“I want to make another dive.” Wufei sighed.

“You’re not going to leave this alone. You haven’t heard a fucking thing I’ve said all day.”

“I heard you. I can count on one hand the number of shits I give and still have fingers left, but I heard you. You’re coming with me, right?” The mulish, stubborn look was back in Heero’s eyes, hardening his jaw and squaring his shoulders.

“I almost lost you.”

“Better luck next time.”

“I would have been better off, in the long run. Idiot. When?”

“Tomorrow night.”  
*

Duo lived inside his pain. It coiled around him, consuming him down to the last scale. His nervous system was overstimulated, burning, screaming for relief. He heard the currents around him, felt them lifting his hair; miniscule bubbles hissed along his skin, but they weren’t natural. They rushed at him from several directions, pushed along by rippling, contained pressure.

His violet eyes fluttered open, and he felt annoyed at how murky his vision was, how the clarity of the colors and shadows around him was obscured by a dank film. Absently he reached up to rub his eyes, but it made no difference. He reached out in front of him and touched something hard.

Panic filled his chest. There was a wall between him and the rest of the cave! Duo slammed himself against it frantically, spinning and darting around, trying to find a point of exit. Every movement made him throb even more than before, but Duo needed to get out.

He was inside a tank. Futilely he banged his fists against the cold panels trapping him, but he barely felt so much as a vibration in the hard substance. He peered down at his hands in alarm. There were myriad tiny suckers attached to his skin, and they pulsed and glowed with his movements. Their shape reminded him of leeches. Their long, spiny tails fluttered on the currents, tangling around him, and Duo felt sick. They were feeding off of him.  
I trust you slept well, nephew. The hated voice rolled over his flesh, making his hair stand on end again.

Kill me, he demanded bitterly. Whatever you’re planning to use me for, it won’t work. I’ll never-

Hush. Don’t be ridiculous. Such brash words, youngling. Is that any way to treat family? Goodness! You’re my guest. I’m honored that you graced my humble parlor with your presence and beauty, Duo. Une’s smile was serpentine, baring jagged, rotting teeth. You have such lovely dreams, nephew. So vibrant and lively. You’ve such a lust for life, it would be a pity to cut it short, when you’re in your prime. There’s so much you’ve only begun to discover and explore. Particularly above the surface. Her voice cajoled him, teasing him. Alarm filled him. It’s wondrous, isn’t it? Seeing the sunset setting the clouds on fire. It’s even more brilliant than the reef, wouldn’t you agree? And tasting the wind? Breathing air? Aren’t you curious how air-breathers manage to move about on land? They intrigue you, don’t they, with their silly boats and false fins? Or at any rate, the one you saved intrigues you, doesn’t he? Hang the rest of them, right, nephew? You like this young Heero. Such an odd name.

Fuck you! Duo hissed. Une tutted and waggled her finger at him sadly.

No, no. Manners, nephew. She concentrated on the suckers piercing his flesh and gave him a small, warning shock, enjoying his cry of outrage. You like him. You felt a connection to him. Didn’t you. He didn’t understand you when you tried to communicate with him, but you felt his emotions. It was the same with your mother and my foolish brother. Human speak with words; they aren’t swallowed up by water. Think of how it would be to breathe air and walk on land. What a grand adventure for one brave enough to seize it.

She was wearing him down, chipping away at his resistance and logic. Memories of Heero’s eyes and his soft, deep voice haunted him, pulling at him. He remembered how he clung to him for his life, how gratitude won out over confusion as he supported him on the waves.

_My father banned me from the surface. Une shrugged._

Do you see him here?

I’d sooner spawn with a shark than trust you.

_That can be arranged._ He recoiled in disgust. She drew closer and her tentacles undulated and rippled around him, their tips stroking the tank with a perverse longing, as though she wanted to embrace him. Hear me out. You can’t go home. Before Duo could argue, she shook her head sadly at him. You’re merely a prisoner there, even if Milliardo doesn’t bind you in chains. I freed you from his little trinket, didn’t I? You’re a Halfling and a live-mater, Duo, but even worse, you’re the second son. You’ve no position and no birthright.

_I’ve never wanted to rule,_ Duo insisted, but her words stung him just the same.

_But you could be free. Think of it. Above the waves, you could roam as far as you wished. Look at your departed mother. She dove into the deep whenever she wanted, and still walked on land. She owned the best of both worlds._

Duo’s mind raced with the possibilities, but he hated her smugness and resented her incursion into his psyche. Her presence there still haunted him, marked him.

_You could have everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Duo. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime._


	12. Like Oxygen, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A curse. A transformation. A reunion.

 

_Damn your soul_ , Duo spat, his violet eyes boring into the cruel gray ones of his captor. _I don't make deals with putrid, bitter old krakens that reek of ink. What did you do to my mother?_ <I> Duo heard the old caecelia tutting in his mind, shaking her head slowly.

_I gave the one who spawned you her most fervent wish, nephew. I made the unfathomable a reality._

_Not without a price,_  he reminded her.

_Nevertheless, nephew, I implore you to think carefully before you make a rash decision._

_Rash? Zechs is the sensible one, hag. You haven’t seen rash. I told you, I don't make deals._  Duo rolled his eyes and risked a smirk.

  _I made you an offer, nephew. Not a choice._  Une's smile flattened into a thin line. She pushed back from the tank with her tentacles, releasing herself from contact with his filth. _So be it. Not blessed, but cursed, is how you will depart from my den. Sanq has lost its prince, and your father has lost his son_!

 An electric charge suffused the tank, shocking him and burning his insides raw, searing along every nerve, and Duo’s face twisted in agony. Une’s triumphant laughter flooded his mind as she toyed with one of her myriad braids. _Let there be blood_.

 

*

 

Heero knew the inherent risks of a night dive, but the deep was calling him, disturbing his sleep. The <i> _Zero_ </i> was back from repair, and the insurance company had reached a settlement, reimbursing him the costs of his stolen gear. He began to ease himself into his new, dark grey wet suit with neon green piping. Wufei watched him from his perch on one of Heero’s stools in the galley, sipping a cup of green tea.

 “I hate this. You know that, right?”

 “Uh-huh.”

 

“That won’t make any difference? You’re still going through with it?”

 “Uh-huh.” Wufei’s sigh was heavy.

 “Then I’m hauling out the big guns.” Heero paused in zipping up the suit, glaring over his pale shoulder.

 “Like _hell_.”

 “I texted Quat twenty minutes ago.” Heero fumed, feeling angry blotches break out over his skin.

 “Bastard. _Fucker_ ,” he hissed.

 “You pushed my hand.” Wufei held up his hands in a don’t-blame-me gesture. He was instantly contrite. “Heero,” he began, “I hate seeing you like-“

 “Like what?”

 “Obsessed. Killing yourself over a pipe dream.” Heero’s lips tightened, and he felt his scalp straining itself over his skull. A small vein in his jaw worked itself in a jerky rhythm as he tried to find the right words.

 “Fuck you.” He found them. “Wufei, it’s not a dream. I know what I saw down there! I know someone pulled me to the surface after I sent over. I was a <i>goner</i> until someone found me, and there wasn’t a damned boat in sight.”

 “You were barely conscious!” Wufei stormed back as he slammed his mug back down on the counter. “Of course you could’ve lost track of time, and by the time you reached the hospital, who knows how many hands were working on you, and you would have lost track of their faces, anyway. There’s no one down there.” ‘Fei stopped Heero’s hands from their task of zipping up the suit once more, and his grip was insistent. Heero glared back, seeing the familiar stubbornness and frustration in his old lover’s almond-shaped, dark eyes. “Heero, <i>there’s no one down there.</i>” Heero blanched at the sharpness in his tone, and he shook him off, jerking back.

 “Stay here, then, but I’m going out.” As if the fates were conspiring against him, Heero snarled at the sudden, staccato knock at his front door. Quatre didn’t wait to be let in. The click of the knob and his low, thudding footsteps in his front hall signaled the end of any attempt he could make at reasoning with Wufei. He was outnumbered, and with the arrival of his oldest friend, outgunned. Quatre strode into his living room, fresh and impeccably groomed, but his blonde waves were slightly windblown, and his face was concerned. He scowled at the wet suit.

 “Here for my intervention? Pull up a chair. ‘Fei made tea,” he quipped.

 “Off. Take that off. You’re not going anywhere.” Heero hated it when Quat used his “reasonable” voice, as though he were cajoling a five-year-old to eat his vegetables.

 “I just finished explaining that it isn’t up to ‘Fei. He’s not my keeper. Neither are you.”

 “I don’t need you to explain it to me. I’m not standing by while you risk yourself again so soon after we almost lost you.” He approached him, and Heero tried to shrug off his hands as he gripped his shoulders. “We almost <i>lost</i> you. I can’t accept this.”

 “It’s not your decision.”

 “Then turn on your radio,” Quatre snapped, chafing at Heero’s dismissive tone. He was tight-lipped as he released him, digging into his pocket for his iPod Touch. He turned on the radio ap and raised the volume with angry clicks of his thumb. “Common sense is going to prevail, no matter what you think you saw, Heero. There’s a storm brewing. Open up your patio. You can smell the rain in the air, and the wind started kicking up before I drove here.” The slightly staticky announcer’s voice droned his broadcast, interrupting the tension in the living room. Wufei grunted and went to the patio door to draw back the curtain. A fine mist glistened and dispersed itself on the quickening wind, slicking the door’s glass surface, dashing Heero’s hopes.

 

 “… _storm activity on the radar shows us a squall is moving in over the Bay Area tonight; expect lightning, thunder, and some residual hail from the building tornado blowing over Texas. Locals can anticipate heavy rains through the night, and on into the weekend. Stay dry and stay inside, folks._ ”

 “You heard him,” Quatre said, nodding as he turned off the broadcast and put away his phone. “You can’t go out in that tiny boat.”

 “Lightning, Heero. ‘Nuff said. You’re grounded,” Wufei added dryly. Both of his friends watched his jaw work and the brief flare of his nostrils. His fists clenched, and they knew his patience hung on by a fragile, straining thread. The desire – the overwhelming, unspeakable need – to find the face and voice of his dreams warred with reason and common sense.

 Heero made a noise of disgust before he pushed past Quatre and retreated to his room. He slammed the door behind him, making Quatre wince.

 “That went well.”

 “What do you want in your tea?” Nonplussed, Wufei rummaged in the cupboards for two more mugs. It was going to be a long night.

 

*

 

Heero ripped off the wet suit, balled it up and flung it, landing with a slap in the corner. They didn’t understand, because they couldn’t, he realized. They weren’t there. They didn’t see what he saw, and it was killing him, because Heero still wasn’t sure _himself_.

 But the dreams were growing more vivid. Heero saw things in his consciousness that he knew he hadn’t experienced himself. He dreamt of the deep, but his perspective had more clarity, enhanced and sharp. The aquatic denizens he was accustomed to weren’t watching him warily and skirting around him.

 They _communed_ with him.

 Heero heard whale song in his mind, more than his ears, and words formed themselves from the unearthly keening and trumpeting calls. He swam with a pod of dolphins, and they buffeted him playfully, pushing their snouts under his hands and soliciting his caresses. He was swimming, but instead of the even, rhythmic kick of his legs, his entire body seemed to ripple, streamlined and efficient, and he experienced less “drag.” His movements were slick and quick, and he relished the feeling of power over his surroundings, no longer a slave to it or bound by the rules a land dweller heeded below. He tasted a vestige of squid’s ink in the water, and he gagged on its bitterness…

 The most recent vision terrified him, and he struggled and gasped for air. A pair of almost reptilian gray eyes mocked him, and he heard taunting laughter in his head. Shocks of electric fire blazed a path over his nerve endings and locked his muscles, ceased, then started again, and the face before him enjoyed his pain, _feeding_ off of it. Something pierced his flesh, and he felt a current of blood withdrawn from his veins.

 He woke up, chilled, heart hammering and clammy with sweat. The dreams weren’t natural, and they hadn’t stopped since the night he was hijacked. Whoever – whatever – was responsible for saving him imprinted on him, somehow. Heero knew when he was being haunted.

 Heero wriggled into a pair of pajama bottoms and a faded San Jose Sharks tank and sank down onto his bed, back propped against the wall. He closed his eyes, and he heard faint whale song. _Great_.

 Wufei and Quat were right. Going out was a fool’s errand, and he didn’t plan to add getting struck by lightning or capsizing his boat to his list of accomplishments for the year, let alone make them his last.

 He heard them moving about in his kitchen, and Heero didn’t feel like playing host in his current mood. He picked up a small racquetball from his bedside table and tossed it at the floor, needing to throw something. It ricocheted and hit the opposite wall, returned to the floor and back to him. He occupied himself with the smooth feel of the rubber and the thumps of its impact. He didn’t give a damn if he was being rude.

 When he heard the TV come on, he knew they planned to babysit him all night, and Heero resented it. He chucked the ball into his open closet and closed his eyes, rubbing his brows. “Fuck,” he hissed. He couldn’t stand being pent up within four walls, even when the rain outside picked up, large drops slapping the pier and his roof like bullets. He opened his window a crack to allow the scent of fresh petrichor into his room. The first clatter of thunder startled him and left him more on edge. He ignored the sounds of dishes being taken down from the cupboard and the hiss of oil in the pan. Wufei was going to try to feed him again…

 He turned off the light and watched the flashes of lightning fill the room with its eerie glow, his eyes tracking the patterns of shadows across the ceiling and floor.

 

*

 

Duo thrashed futilely within the tank, jerking at the sensation of long, tiny probes reaching up from the base, extending toward him. There was nowhere to flee, and Une chuckled, shaking her head.

  _You will forget everything. All that you know will seem but a hazy dream, nephew. No longer will you be the bastard son or the errant brother. Sanq will mourn you, but they will forget you._

_Liar! My father will come after me, or Zechs will! They’ll know you had everything to do with it if I don’t return!_

_You speak of them wanting to find you, Duo, but consider how easily you left. Why didn’t they try harder to keep you? Cry not for the past, nephew. Look to the future. Look for the young man who has captured your imagination and dreams so thoroughly, instead._

 The probes pricked his flesh, worming their way into it. Duo felt violated, but this new discomfort paled compared to the shocks Une subjected him to for so long. The transparent probes were shot through with crimson streams; Duo watched fascinated by them, reeling and faint. He realized belatedly that was his ichor being stolen from his veins. His hair hung in lank ropes around his face, and his vision blurred.

 Une retreated to her shelves and took down another flash, an infusion whose purpose Duo couldn’t guess. She uncapped one end of it, a tiny spout that appeared sharp and hollow. Une hummed to herself tunelessly at first as she worked, opening the tiny vial she had shown him earlier: Sheila Maxwell’s blood. She drew up a few drops of it into the flask and sealed it up, but not before breathing in the stray stain from the current, relishing its sweetness. Her eyes lowered in a slow blink of contentment. Une bent over the base of the tank, fiddling with it as the probes continued to feed on Duo’s essence. She reached for a small compartment and depressed the lever. Une inserted the end of the flask into the slot, and the tank seemed to come to life. Currents rushed over Duo’s flesh in a current of swirling foam, buffeting him.

 Une spun and cranked a large wheel on the side of the tank, and the probes ceased their drain, reversing the flow. Duo felt himself being infused with an eerie flow of warmth and energy. The probes pumped and pulsed Une’s potion into his blood, mingling it with that stolen from his fallen mother, and a change occurred in his physiology and metabolism – his very being – warping it into something else completely. His bones felt heavier, denser and less flexible. His flesh lost its transluscence; his bluish veins were less visible beneath the skin. His blood, usually cool as the water around him, seemed to be on fire.

  _Walk on land. Breathe air. Feel your flesh cook under the unforgiving sun. Gravity will be your enemy. The sea will forsake you, Duo, and it will nurture you no longer. You sacrifice everything for a stripling who doesn’t even remember your rescue of him from a watery demise. Such a shame for a birthright such as yours to be wasted on you, you pitiful, pretty waste of scales._

Chaos dominated every cell of his body, interrupting and rewriting every function and invading his thoughts, twisting them until he forgot why he was captured. His vision blurred and his surroundings began to melt together and warp. Une’s laughing mouth was a dark, broad recess that threatened to swallow him whole…

 

She struggled with the large winches and clamps holding the lid fast, and the squeals of the ancient metal were absorbed by the water, but Duo felt it, sharp and chafing his already overstimulated senses. The current shifted with the pressure of the lid being forced open, creating a vacuum that sucked him out! Duo barely processed what was happening in time to feel any relief. His eyes widened and he shook himself weakly to dislodge the probes. Spent, they shriveled up and receded back into the tank’s base, drizzling frissons of his ichor in his wake.

 Une’s tentacle uncurled itself with a neat snap and captured him by the tail before he could dart for the corridors of her den. _Let’s not be hasty, darling_. His muscles protested the jerk and strain of trying to fight her off, and he was weak as a minnow. Une’s touch was odious to him, and it burned. Her appendages wrapped around him, coiling lovingly around his waist and arms, pinning them neatly behind his back. Duo’s face contorted with the strain, and he saw spots dance before his eyes… it was becoming so difficult to breathe…

  _I leave you with one last gift_. She reached for a strange object whose purpose Duo couldn’t guess. It was palm-sized, a clear, smooth dome that reminded him of a clam shell. The tip of her tentacle caressed his cheek, and he winced, shrinking from her touch, tail whipping forcefully, yet futilely. Une crammed the object against his face, even while he attempted to shake it off. The strange thing took on a life of its own, clinging to his face like a sucker.

 His world turned itself inside-out. Disoriented, Duo lost any semblance of equilibrium as the water pressure reversed itself, squeezing every drop of it from his lungs. He gasped and clamored for a sustaining breath, and his head felt like it would burst, ear drums throbbing in concert with his heart.

  _Breathe_ , Une commanded him. **_Breathe_**! Her voice boomed into his mind, and through some miracle – or misfortune – he obeyed. The nourishing, mineral-rich fluid receded from the mask, replaced by free-flowing oxygen, exotic and frightening.

  _Go to him. And forget._ As a final insult, Une snatched off his scale, ripping apart the fragile links that anchored it around his neck. She would find a use for it, eventually…

  _Go_ , she bade him again, and Une finally let him wriggle free. He jerked and darted away, colliding with various shelves and her work table, all sense of direction lost. His muscles felt limp, and it took more effort than he had to swim… he was so tired… his tail barely propelled him, and his strokes were graceless as he navigated the corridor. The mask took away the bitterness of the inky murk that characterized Une’s home, but it still stung his eyes.

 He sobbed at the first sight of the reef, and the banter of a nearby pod of dolphins caught his attention. _Duo!_

_Help,_ he cried out, but he was too weak to maintain his link, and their thoughts faded in and out of his consciousness. _Help me. Can’t swim. Can’t… stay down here_.

  _Ridiculous_ , the leader argued as they approached. They were fine specimens, gleaming in the darkness. _Where is your scale? We need to take you to the dome_!

  _No. Not the dome. Up. Take me up. Take me to the surface, or I’m done_ , he pleaded. He heard their odd squeals and banter, and it sounded muddled and gibbering, not the fluent, beautiful dialect he was accustomed to, and it unsettled him. _Take me up_ , he insisted. _I’ll be done for if you don’t_.

  _Your will be done, Highness_. They seemed to smile at him, and Duo grasped the supple, sinewy fin and clung to it, knowing his life depended on it. They dolphins buoyed and guided him up, up toward salvation, uncertain to their thinking. There was no choice. Their keen senses told them something was wrong with their young master and favorite playmate. He lacked his usual strength, speed and grace. His efforts at propelling himself were weak and uneven, his tail’s kicks a halfhearted and ineffectual flutter.

  _Heero_. The name echoed through his consciousness, even as his awareness of his surroundings began to dissolve. Mournful pangs squeezed his chest when he realized the very dark, real possibility that he might never see Zechs again. Duo was comforted by only one thing.

 Une was out of her ink-addled mind if she truly thought Sanq had lost its prince just because he was out of her way. Zechs would give that old bitch hell, surely. He smirked bitterly behind the strange mask as the foreign, arid oxygen burned down his airway, making him lightheaded.

 The chattering of dolphins mingled with the guttural shrieks of a flock of gulls; Duo could barely distinguish between them as they erupted through the surface. The air was frigid, and his teeth chattered. His exposed, slick flesh felt too tightly drawn over his bones, and he held fast to the young podling. The sky was a maelstrom of lashing rains and winds, howling in his ears. The waves were choppy and thrashed him senseless, powerless. His eyes tingled and burned, an uncommon reaction to the saline-rich water, and Duo moaned.

  _We need to get you to shore, Highness_. He sensed the creature’s distress, but he didn’t know how to respond to him. His voice sounded faraway and vague, even though they were pressed flush against each other as his finned savior swam east toward the horizon. In the distance, Duo saw an array of strange lights, brighter than the stars, if he could actually see the stars. Inky, black and gray clouds blocked them out, obscuring the moon. It was a disappointment to him; Duo adored the moon when it was full, ringed with a glowing, pearly halo, one of his favorite sights on those rare nights when he breached.

 He must have dozed. He no longer felt as though he was kicking on his own, and his tail felt strange, creating more drag, no longer streamlined. He lost his instinctive ability to propel himself, and his muscles screamed with fatigue. The lights from the shore came closer, and he made out strange, exotic shapes in the darkness. He distinguished the lapping of the waves hitting solid surfaces, piers, jetties, skiffs and docks. The pod guided them neatly around orange safety buoys, and the clamor of the tide rolling in assailed his ears. The scent of petrichor held an odd tang; his mind didn’t register that it was fresh water, only that the pelting drops stung.

 Oblivion beckoned to him, and this time, he welcomed its sweet caress.

 

*

 

Heero woke tangled in the covers, uncertain what roused him. He listened for sounds from the front of his house and was greeted by near-silence. The storm still raged on outside, but the thunder ceased its rolls. Another flash of lightning illuminated his room and he blinked groggily at his clock’s digital display. One A.M. Fuck. Heero rubbed his eyes and stretched, rolling upright and dangling his legs over the side of the bed.

 

He padded out to his living room and saw ‘Fei sleeping on the couch. Quatre appeared to have given up and headed home, which Heero wouldn’t cry over. He knew he meant well, but he didn’t need him playing Mother Hen. Heero hovered over ‘Fei quietly, not wanting to disturb him. He’d kicked off his blankets, and the room was chilly. Heero slowly drew them over the crest of his exposed shoulder, and ‘Fei grunted in his sleep and sighed. Heero’s heart went out to him. The tender feelings hadn’t died, nor had all of the old hurts. He couldn’t give him what he wanted from their relationship, and Heero couldn’t put his finger on why. He refused to let Wufei settle for less than he deserved, or let him wait on Heero to make any meaningful changes, so they’d ended it. On those nights where they stayed together for the sake of contact, not necessarily intimate, it almost felt right again, feeling his even breaths misting over his nape and the strong clamp of his arm around his waist. Heero slept better with Wufei’s scent infusing his bed linens and wrapped up in his heat, but he wasn’t doing his ex any favors in the long run.

 

He deserved more. Continuing what they had, lingering in this limbo, created a road block to finding someone else. The lightning flared again, throwing preternatural, bluish light over his ex’s face, illuminating its angular beauty.

 

Before Heero could contemplate what he was doing, he slipped from the room in search of his shoes. He changed clothes silently, eschewing the wet suit for a zippered windbreaker and lightweight sweats. He tugged on a ball cap, not worrying about how his hair looked, and Heero grabbed his keys from the wall hook in the kitchen. He crept out the door, letting it click shut as quietly as he could.

 

He couldn’t say what urged him to go for a drive at that hour. His feet were itchy, and he was too restless to go back to sleep. Heero pulled his gray Jeep out of the driveway, grateful that his street was deserted, and his wipers chuffed and hissed over the windshield, barely two scrapes ahead of the sluicing shimmer of silver drops. The storm sang in his blood, resetting the pace of his heartbeat. He drove a little too fast, enjoying the purr of the engine and vibrations of the gas pedal beneath his foot.

 

_Duo_. The sound was a feeling, unshakable and constant. He needed to see the shoreline, if the storm wouldn’t let up enough for him to head out on the Zero. He was drawn to the pounding surf. The asphalt of the beach parking lot was awash in slick, scattered wet sand that crunched beneath his sneakers after he parked. He crept down the wooden stairs to the beach and breathed in the salty tang in the air, hearing a lecture from Quatre in his head, about making himself sick haring off in the dark dampness. His eyes adjusted to the rain, blindingly bright beneath the glare from the parking lot’s lights and the beacon over the beach house. He slogged over the rise in the dunes toward the shore, feeling bits of dried seaweed and drifts of sand invade his shoes.

 

He watched the waves ebb and roll in a choppy rhythm and crammed his hands into his jacket pockets, shaking off the chill. He watched the buoys rise and fall, bobbing like children’s toys in a bathtub nearly a mile out. The rain slowed; he shivered at the drops still pelting him and trickling down his nape, sneaking beneath his jacket collar.

 

His eyes played tricks on him. Something was pulling itself through the surf toward the shore…

 

*

 

He was floating, no companion guiding him or carrying him through the surf, and Duo woke up in a groggy panic. “Unnngh… *kaffkaffkaff*” He moaned and choked, flailing among the waves as they pushed him toward the shore. His legs knew enough to kick for him, even though they felt leaden and stiff. He fought to keep his head above the foaming soup as it rushed at his back. He fought to pull himself through it, unsure of his goal. He focused on the lights and the shadowy silhouettes of the structures up ahead. His memory was blurred and held no answers for him, nor any names to call anything that he saw. The waves toyed with him, and he fought to swim to steady himself, stunned by the strength of the undertow.

 

He kicked until his legs burned, and he seemed to run out of water; his feet were scraping along the floor of sand and rocks, feet tangling in coarse seaweed. Duo cried out in surprise and horror, and the waves knocked him forward and off-balance. He fell face-first into the surf before he could right himself, and his hair hung down into his eyes in cold, messy runnels. He plodded forward slowly, desperately, shivering as he emerged from the water, a battered, naked Venus. Duo’s teeth chattered behind the air mask, and his fingers clawed at the straps that chafed his cheeks. He fell again, landing on all fours, and the ebb of the waves nearly pulled him backward. The damp sand sucked at his hands, and he struggled, slow as a sea turtle.

 

That was how Heero found him.

 

*

 

It’s a man. Heero reeled with this knowledge, and panic spurred him to action. He ran without thinking toward the surf, crying out to the stranger. “Hey! HEY! Are you all right?” He saw him stumble forward, and he wasn’t regaining his footing. As he closed in on him, it hit Heero that the man was stark naked.

 

“Shit,” he hissed. He had on a diving mask, or what passed for one, and he looked like he’d lost his wet suit. Heero mentally shook his head at Quat for being concerned about _him_. He’d have a field day with this poor wretch… “Buddy, you all right? What are you doing out here.” The man was crawling weakly on all fours toward the sound of his voice, and he craned his face up to him, eyes bleary and haunted. Heero froze.

_Violet_. The rich, deep tones of a sunset in transition, right before the first star of the night appeared. His long, dark hair hung in a lank, half-unraveled braid; much of it hung down into his face, plastered to that strange, insubstantial breathing mask. Heero’s mind swarmed with questions, not least of which was _how was he breathing in that thing without an air tank_? Shock kept his eyes glued to him, processing every detail of his appearance, unable to comprehend how he’d arrived there. It was surreal.

Heero knelt down and reached for him, ignoring the cold spray that soaked his pants legs and sneakers. His skin was ice-cold, and Heero hissed at how jerky his movements were, limbs no doubt stiff from his immersion for who knew how long. “Did you lose your boat?” he demanded. “C’mon. I have you.” He caught the stranger’s arms and wrapped them around his own shoulders, carefully pulling him up and supporting him. The young man’s grip convulsed and tightened around him, and he heard his low, croaky gasps. He needed Heero’s strength. And that mask had to go. Together they staggered a few yards toward the boardwalk, but the stranger’s legs wouldn’t support his weight anymore. Heero caught him as he tumbled down to the grainy, damp sand, and he took the opportunity to examine the mask. He pried at it, loosening it from his jawline, and he heard the suction give way with a loud pop. The strap snapped, and the mask fell away from his face.

Patrician features contorted as he struggled for breath and choked, unaccustomed to breathing in the cold, salty air and harsh wind. Concern and worry gripped Heero. He was shivering so violently, and his teeth were chattering audibly, clacking together. Heero made soothing, shushing sounds, murmuring to him as he unzipped his jacket. He whipped it off and gathered the stranger close, draping it around him and tugging him against him. Heero cradled him against his heat, feeling the slender, chilled body shudder. He was hypothermic and overexposed, and Heero had to warm him up and find him shelter.

“It’s okay.” He hissed in surprise as one of the stranger’s cold hands tangled in his thin shirt, inadvertently brushing against his flesh. Heero decided that was the correct tactic and raised up his shirt, pulling him flush against his bared skin. He covered them both with his windbreaker and rubbed his back and arms briskly, trying to massage some circulation back into them. The sand beneath them was wet, cold and itchy, but he didn’t care at the moment. “What’s your name?” The young man shook his head, and his voice was a brief, unintelligible garble, no doubt an effect of his chattering teeth. His voice was a hoarse tenor. “I’m Heero,” he offered encouragingly.

The effect was immediate. The man’s head rose from where he’d buried it in the crook of Heero’s neck, and he stared down at him in surprise… and recognition. His hand shook as he lifted it, and to Heero’s consternation, touched his face. His mouth worked, but there were no words. Those brilliant violet eyes focused on his face, no longer bleary, and Heero felt as though he was drowning in their depths.

“Heero,” he whispered, and his face softened. He shook his head in disbelief, a jerky gesture, and he was still shivering. Heero nodded.

“Heero,” he repeated. “Heero Yuy.”

The hand reached for his hair, catching a lock of his bangs between his finger and thumb, testing its slick, soft texture. It trembled reverently, cradling his cheek. Heero lay unflinching and shocked, wondering why he wasn’t having a stronger reaction to a naked man huddled against him, out in the open, touching him intimately.

“D…Duo,” he rasped shakily, and his eyes rolled shut as he collapsed against him.


	13. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Une's plot thickens as Duo discovers being human isn't all it's cracked up to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the formatting. I lost my italics when I pasted into the HTML handler, but when I manually tag, the paragraphs get corrupted, moving my end tags where they don't belong. My internal monologues look like regular speech. Sorry :(

Duo dreamt that he'd been swimming.

Duo's eyes fluttered open and gradually jerked toward the sound of Heero's voice. His pupils dilated, then retracted as they adjusted to the brightness of the sterile-looking suite. He jerked his head, eyes widening as he recognized him, and Heero's pulse quickened as he saw the moment that Duo realized that he was on a vent. Duo's head pitched back on the pillow, and what Heero could see of his expression around the tape was panicked.

"It's okay! It's all right, Duo, calm down! NURSE!" Heero cried out, then, belatedly, he remembered the small white call light cord knotted around the bed rail. He punched the tiny red button, fretful at Duo's distress. The alarms of the monitors dinged within the suite, and the bedside RN ducked her face inside the room again.

"Oh, look who's awake!" she exclaimed. "Good morning!" She was too perky for Heero's taste, but joy and relief filled him that Duo's activity wasn't just his reflexes, that he was truly awake. "Did you enjoy your sleep? Bet you got more than your friend, here," she joked. "Let me just wash my hands." Duo continued to struggle, looking confused at the presence of the young woman in the room. Her clothing was simple and almost shapeless, in muted blues, and she wore her hair skinned back in an austere bun. He heard the splash of water in the basin, then the snap of her latex gloves.

Duo's brain swam groggily as he regained consciousness. His breathing sounded and felt strange... he tried to speak, but all that came out was a low, raspy grunt; his airway was obstructed by the tube, and he jerked his face toward Heero, eyes beseeching him. What have they done to me? they seemed to ask.

Heero moved back from the bed, and Duo wanted to protest, craving the precious contact with his only friend, his rescuer, but he shook his head gently, and his large, cobalt blue eyes were sad. They were also ringed with dark smudges, a clear sign of how little he'd slept. Duo also took in his rumpled clothing, unsure of their purpose, and he noticed that Heero's jaw seemed coated with a fine layer of something... stubble, his mind supplied. His cheeks looked more gaunt than they had on the night Heero found him on the beach. Concern flooded him, even though Duo was the one lying on the bed.

Heero's expression was troubled, but Duo read the relief there, making him wonder how long he had been there. His concept of time was vague at best. He seldom surfaced from his watery domain to breath in the rich, cold dry air. He knew the moon dictated the tides, and that the sun provided the strange, golden light that filtered through the water, but he'd never truly felt its warmth.

A sliver of light shone inside the room through the window's mini-blind slats.It played over his skin, and he wiggled his fingers, trying to grasp and hold it, but it was elusive. A smile quirked at the corner of Heero’s mouth at Duo’s gesture, but he grew concerned as Duo fidgeted the closer the nurse came to his bed. She pushed a button on her monitor, and the snug, black cuff around Duo’s arm inflated and constricted around his arm. Heero watched him jerk and fidget again, trying to free himself from its grip. “Easy, Duo,” he told him firmly. “It’s just checking your pressure!”

“Yup.” The RN took down a small item that looked like a supermarket scanner and ran it over Duo’s wristband, where it beeped as it read the barcode. “Price check!” she joked. “All right. We’ll see what meds Dr. Po wants you to have on board, Duo.” Duo moaned and tried to bat her hand away, but Heero rose from the bed and gently took his hand.

“Stop that. Calm down. She just wants to examine you, Duo. She won’t hurt you.”

Large violet eyes challenged him, and Duo shook his head. His hand gestured to his opposite arm and the IV needle placed in his vein and taped fast. “I know. IVs suck,” Heero agreed. “It’s giving you fluids. And your meds, at least until you can wake up a little more.” Duo’s hand fussed with the sheet draped over him, but Heero took it and held it still again. “You’re not wearing much, buddy.”

“Just his catheter,” the nurse supplied. “They’re all the rage on the ward.”

“Ouch,” Heero muttered, cringing. “How long will he need it?”

“Until we can see how well he voids on his own, and we can get him up on his feet.” Her voice was pert as she checked him over. Duo was less combative beneath her gentle touch, but Heero could tell he didn’t trust her not to jab him with anything else. Heero gently pried Duo’s fingers from the IV tubing, then from the one for his vent.

“You just think you have to touch everything,” Heero chided him. Duo sighed and squinted at him in what looked like annoyance. Heero chuckled. “He’s feisty.”

“Then he must be feeling better.”

*

 

Wufei went through the digital images again from their last dive, zooming in and editing them for the best angles and adjusting the lighting. He took a drink of his green tea, annoyed at how it chafed his sandy tongue when he burned it earlier on the first sip. He would have felt better with Heero at his elbow as he reviewed the shots, even though he usually did most of the editing himself, but he preferred collaborating with him on shots they both went to so much trouble and risk to get.

The plane tickets laid out on the kitchen table mocked him. Wufei growled under his breath. He didn’t want to change their travel dates when they’d gotten such a good deal and decent layover and departure times, but it was a necessary evil. Wufei didn’t want to fret over Heero’s misguided need to stay by that stranger’s bedside, but, he reasoned, Heero refused to fret over himself. And why would he, when he had so many people close to him to do it for him?

He just took another sip of tea when he heard a low knock on Heero’s apartment door. “Shit,” he muttered savagely. Wufei rose, stretched, and he took his sweet time answering it. One peek through the kitchen blinds’ slats revealed Relena’s pert profile as she knocked again. He darted away from the window before she could catch him. Wufei scrubbed his hand over his face as he ducked behind the fridge. “Eeerrrrggghhh… why, why, WHYwhywhywhy? Why now, Lord? You hate me, right?” He shook open palms at the sky, but he didn’t get the answer he hoped.

That meant he had to answer the door.

He dragged his feet and steeled himself, hand hesitating as it closed around the knob. He jerked it open, leaving Relena’s hand hanging in mid-air. “Oh. Hi, ‘Fei.” Her blue eyes were disappointed, and Wufei restrained the urge to roll his own. She was decked out in a ruffly confection of a dress and kitten heels, dressed to impress, yet another attempt to win back her reluctant ex. Wufei knew something about that, but he felt no empathy for her. Relena and Heero were a train wreck…

“He’s not here,” he informed her.

“Where is he?” Her shoulders drooped slightly in disappointment, and whatever attempt she made at a polite smile died an unmourned death.

“He’s at the hospital,” he offered. He had no clue how to explain the events of the past forty-eight hours. Then he bit his tongue. That wouldn’t help things any…

“WHAT?”

He kicked himself. Of course she would panic. Relena had a tendency to wig out as badly as Quatre when she wanted, something ‘Fei had no time for.

He held up his hands before she could continue. “Visiting. He’s visiting a friend.”

“Friend… what friend? I didn’t know he had any friends who were sick.” As though she had the inside tip on that sort of thing… ‘Fei sighed.

“He had an incident. A near drowning.” She paled.

“Oh, my God… was Heero with him? Was he diving again? He never listens to reason… I don’t know why I bother with-“

“Calm down.” His voice was hard and gritty. “No one will stop him from diving if that’s what he wants to do. You know that by now.”

“Who’s this ‘friend,’ then?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” That much was true. “Never met him until now.”

“Did Heero say how long he was planning to be at the hospital?”

“He hasn’t come home since his friend ended up there.” Wufei had fretted about it, and his eyes were exhausted holes in his head. “I’m just tidying up his place and stocking his cupboards while he’s out and checking his mail.”

“Well… I could’ve done that,” she exclaimed in irritation.

He wouldn’t want you poking around in his shit. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it, Relena.” Wufei hadn’t budged from the doorway, and he made no move to invite her inside. Relena huffed, then sighed.

“Fine. Have him call me. Never mind, I’ll text him,” she decided. Wufei stayed mum to the fact that the intensive care unit discouraged cell phones.

“All right.” She turned on her heel, deciding that was enough of a salutation. “Bye…” She practically sprinted to her tiny Audi. A cup of green tea and a handful of Advil were calling Wufei’s name after their encounter.

Wufei fixed his drink and a light snack from the offerings in Heero’s cabinets, which he had indeed stocked with a short Safeway run. The routine was a habit, as natural as breathing to him, and he’d worn a groove in Heero’s carpeting pacing, waiting for him to come home. That was nothing new, either. As their relationship had begun to wane, Heero’s absences became more frequent, and Wufei stared down the barrel of a future without him, feeling a dark, cold emptiness inside him blossom and grow. If Wufei could blame it on anything, and Heero said as much, it was that both men were independent and hardheaded. But what Wufei couldn’t share was that he needed Heero more than he needed him, and it chafed. He maintained his stoic demeanor, but oh, how it hurt when Heero told him they had taken what they had as far as it could go.

In the wake of Heero’s hijacking, for a hot minute… he guiltily admitted that it seemed like he needed him, that he needed his strength. But on those nights where he gave in to the need for contact with him, his embrace was platonic, almost brotherly, and Wufei died a little every time.

He yearned for the days when Heero made him feel _alive_.

*

The catheter baffled him.

Duo spent the next hour growing acclimated to his weakened body, feeling as though it was someone else’s. He fumbled with the sheet, still wondering at its purpose, but whenever he moved it, the cool air of the room drifted over his skin, raising odd goosebumps and chilling him. He raised the edge of it long enough to stare down at his pelvis. That felt wrong, too; he peered down at the flat, smooth expanse of his stomach and pressed a questing finger into the small, round indentation there; it tickled, and he quickly withdrew from it. He wiggled his toes, watching how they shifted the sheet, like two creatures fighting their way toward the surface. He touched his skin, chapped yet smooth, and he noticed a fine, downy layer of chestnut-colored hair slicked over his arms. He stroked it in wonder, tugged on a strand, and smothered a curse at the irritation.

But strangest of all was the heavy, uncomfortable feeling at his crotch… another strange zone that felt different than he remembered. The gap of space between his legs… had it always been there? He startled at the sound of the door opening, and Heero entered the room, smiling down at him. Duo moved his lips to speak, glad to be free of the bothersome breathing tube, but his voice was still muffled by the hiss of the oxygen mask.

“Hey,” Heero greeted him pleasantly. “You look better today, Duo. Still a little rough around the edges. I think you’ll clean up pretty enough, when they’re ready to let you out of here.” Duo huffed, then shrugged. He was still tired, and Heero’s speech was foreign to him… English, and human, he supposed, but his voice still sounded strange to him. But it was deep and pleasant, easier on Duo’s ears than the nurse’s high-pitched tones. “You look so confused…”

He wasn’t off the mark. Duo sighed, and Heero sat beside him, pulling his chair closer to the arm rail of the bed. His slender fingers gently caressed Duo’s shoulder, and Duo fixed his striking violet eyes on him, studying him intently.

Heero wasn’t expecting the quick, sharp snap of the sheet as Duo whipped it away from him, tiring of wrestling with it. Heero’s eyes widened at his friend’s nudity, and he immediately flushed a deep scarlet. Heero’s mouth went dry at the sight of his slender, muscular body, but he was still alarmed. Duo’s hand flailed slightly, then began patting at his genitals, as though reminding himself that it was there. “Um… you’re… going to catch a chill. Duo, don’t… aw, geez…” Heero’s eyes flicked down to the resting organ, then darted away just as quickly.

His hand found the long, narrow tubing leading up into his penis, half-flaccid but twitching with Duo’s agitation. Duo fought Heero’s attempt to still his hands, and Heero felt awkward as he tried to stop him from jerking at his catheter. “Please don’t do that…gads, Duo, that’s… not a good idea… nurse! NURSE!” he called out helplessly before finding the call light button.

It was too late. Duo jerked the tubing, and when it finally gave way in his grip, slipping out of its tunnel, he cried out in alarm.

_Owowowowowowow_ …

Urine dribbled from the tubing and splashed Duo’s stomach. “Geez,” Heero muttered. “That couldn’t have felt good.”

“Ooh, what happened here?” Duo’s RN stared at Heero, her face demanding answers.

“He’s… confused,” he told her. Duo looked up at the sound of her voice, and his expression was accusing as he handed her the end of the tubing. He looked back at Heero, and is expression was accusing.

Heero facepalmed, face burning with embarrassment while he fought laughter.

 

*

The troop of soldiers were slightly smaller in number as they returned to the dome. Zechs nodded to the eel sentries at the gate, who wore baffled expressions as they opened it to admit their prince and their captive.

Une was hideous, worse than all of the rumors, and her gaze chilled them as she passed, bound in gleaming manacles, her long, black tentacles trailing a faint cloud of ink as they billowed out behind her. The sentries’ faces twisted in distaste. She was loathesome, and they marveled that she was kin to Zechs and Milliardo.

The denizens of the dome shrank back and retreated to what shelter they could find, mothers pulling spawn to their bosoms as the contingent made their way toward the palace. To draw the eye of the cracken was to plead for her curse.

_Your father won’t be happy._

_He’s seldom happy_. Zechs shrugged in Noin’s mind, and his thoughts were wry and grim. _But his hopes are justified, now._

_So are yours, old friend_. Noin’s eyes met his, and she gently touched his arm, the closest to affection that she could show him in mixed company. They entered the palace with a fifth of the guards flanking them and blocking any chance for the old sea witch’s escape. Zechs could hear her low, satisfied laughter in his mind, and he shot her a glare, eyes sparking with energy. She shook her head, unimpressed.

_I showed you grander hospitality, nephew._

_You will know hospitality at the end of my spear_ , Zechs suggested. _Perhaps you will like that more._

Milliardo awaited them in the throne chamber, and he gripped his scepter with whitened knuckles. _You have much to answer for, Une._

_You will demand nothing from me, brother._

You’re no kin to me. I’ve no more regard for you that I would for a jellyfish. If you’ve harmed my son-

_I’m not afraid of your threats. They mean nothing to me, Milliardo. You’re brave huddled on that throne, aren’t you, surrounded by your minions?_

_I don’t see yours. See how I’ll treat your vermin if they rear their miserable heads anywhere near the dome._

_I’ve no patience for this visit, Milliardo. Release me, at once._

_Not until you’ve told me where my son is._

_Your son, she spat. Aye, your younger son… our dirty little secret, Milliardo, is he not?_

His expression was murderous, and she drew back slightly as he rose from the throne, tentacles billowing and his tail flicking back and forth with anger. His white tangles of hair spread out and rose with the crackling, building energy he emitted, and for a moment, Zechs truly feared his father.

_If you’ve harmed him, I will make you pay. Painfully._

_You don’t have it in you._

You don’t know me that well.

Several hundred years exiled from the throne that I deserve would make us strangers, wouldn’t it, brother?

We’ll get to know each other again soon enough, he promised. Lock her up.

But her expression was crafty, cunning, her gray eyes full of anticipation.

*

“He sure is the strong, silent type,” Duo’s nurse, Anne, mentioned casually. “I wonder what his baseline is. He doesn’t talk much.”

“I don’t know,” Heero admitted. Duo’s name was a mystery, not having a familiar origin, nor a surname at this point. They didn’t know where he came from, and as his condition stabilized, the hospital administrators weren’t any closer to deciding on a plan for him to leave the hospital until Heero spoke up.

“He’s coming home with me.”

“But… you said you barely know him?” The social worker made notes on her clipboard, but her pen paused at this revelation. “So far, Mr. Yuy, no one has come forward to say that they know him. We need to see if he has any family nearby whose home he can disposition him to.”

“What if I’m it? We don’t know how long he was drifting out there before he washed ashore. Maybe he was shipwrecked, or hijacked.” Heero’s eyes clouded over at the bitter memory.

“We’ve already contacted the police station to report his appearance and to name him a John Doe.”

“Duo,” Duo told her in a raspy tone. It was automatic, and Heero smiled at his chiding expression.

“Yes, but Duo what, sweetie?” she pried. Duo looked confused, and he shook his head.

“Look, I have a perfectly nice apartment,” Heero told her. “He can stay with me until the authorities find his family. Otherwise, where will you put him?”

“There are some shelters-“

“No.”

“Behavioral health also has an inpatient facility.”

“No.”

“What if he has some deficits that we don’t know about?” she pressed.

“Doesn’t seem like it. He’s recovering pretty fast.”

“How much of a conversation have you held with him?”

“Pee,” Duo interjected. He pointed to the white urinal bottle hooked to the side of the bedrail. Heero flushed, then stood up hurriedly. He took the call button and signaled for his nurse.

“That’s my cue to give him a minute,” Heero told her.

“We can talk out in the hall, then,” she agreed, and Heero sighed.

“Pee?” Duo inquired as he headed out the door. Heero shot him a brief, amused look and nodded.

“Feel free, bud. We’ll give you some peace. Be right back.”

Duo frowned as he left, and he toyed with the white container, turning it this way and that.

His penis was new to him. Smooth, soft and mostly bare, except for a thatch of what felt like hair… coarser than his braid, when he touched it. His newly discovered organ twitched every time he touched it, which baffled him. It was a pleasant sensation, but every time he tried to point out the bobbing, twitching reaction his touch had, everyone in the room covered him back up with the sheet, or the strange, loose garment draped around him. That same sensation of fullness in his lower abdomen was back, and a strained feeling in his crotch.

He relieved himself, glad to have the hang of it after a few false starts. His next greatest challenge was dealing with the constant barrage of sound. In his watery domain, he was surrounded by near-silence, enveloped in its tranquility and caress. Duo’s ears were newly sensitive, and his temporary residence in the ward assaulted them with dings, beeps, the snap of gloves, hissing, dripping, flipping pages, ticking clocks, metallic wheels rolling down the polished floors, the rougher rattle of wheeled garbage barrels as they were moved down the corridor, the thuds of hospital beds being pushed in and out of the elevators, clattering IV poles of ambulating patients… it all unsettled him. His nerves were on edge from his senses that were too sharp. Lights were too bright, and his RN thoughtfully kept his room dim.

Heero was equally thoughtful, speaking to him in low volume, treating him to the low, masculine richness of his voice, the first he’d ever heard. He rarely turned on the television – the “tee-vee,” he’d called it – on his visits, particularly when Duo had no way of telling him which channel he wanted. The images were strange and disembodied, having little or nothing to do with the comings and goings of the staff who treated him; the actors’ faces and bodies had an artificial quality to them, and their expressions were devoid of any emotion that he recognized.

His RN measured his output in a graduate, eyeing the yellow contents and making a note on her chart before flushing it down the commode in the cubicle. “Good job. Better output, Duo. Those kidneys of yours are starting to work again.” He cleared his throat and licked his lips.

“G-good,” he stammered hoarsely.

“You sound a little dry.” She held up a cup with ice chips and rattled it at him. Duo nodded, and she fed him a spoonful of the cooling treats, soothing his parched throat. “We’ve gotta get you talking, buddy. Can you tell me who your family is? Any siblings?” He shook his head and shrugged. “Family? Brother or sister? Pets? No?”

The only creatures that Duo couldn’t hold a conversation with where he lived were dinner, not pets. He shook his head, then frowned. He tried a word on his tongue, trying to produce the name that entered his head with his voice.

“Zzz…” She brightened.

“Who?”

“ZZek…Zek,” he offered. His fingers fisted with frustration.

“Zek… like Zeke?” He made a so-so motion with his hand, but as quickly as the name came, it left him.

“Can’t quite remember? That’s okay. It’ll come back to you. Is there anywhere that you can call home? We can’t keep you here forever, sweetie, even though it’s been nice meeting you and taking care of you.” She smiled, and he managed to weakly return it. They both looked up at the sound of the door, and Heero peered around its edge.

“Decent?” he inquired.

“Very. He’s been pretty chatty,” she told him. “He gave me a name, or least part of one.”

“He did?” Heero sobered, eyes widening. “Who?”

“A sibling, Duo?” she asked him again. Duo looked confused for a moment, then nodded, shrugging. “Zeke?” He shrugged again, and Heero expelled a breath.

“I wonder if that’s his brother, or a friend,” he mentioned. Or something else, his conscience supplied. Perhaps a lover? He naturally assumed Duo was single, and he certainly had no ring on his finger. He mentally kicked himself; of course, he wouldn’t. He came out of the water without a stitch on. Everything he had could have been stolen from him, couldn’t it?

“Heero,” Duo murmured, looking at him.

“Yes?” he replied.

“F-family,” he said, testing the syllables with his lips.

“What?” Heero’s stomach fluttered.

“Family,” he pronounced again.

“Heero’s… your family?” his nurse asked, smiling kindly but clearly confused. Duo nodded. “Well. Okay. Heero, anything to add to that?”

A warm flush swept over him. Duo’s violet eyes bore into his, and Heero met him halfway, letting his fingers drift into Duo’s grasp.

The social worker returned roughly an hour later, and she screened him endlessly, asking myriad questions about his schedule, his home, who lived with him or otherwise came and went, stopping just short of fingerprinting him and doing a polygraph. By the time she finished, his privacy felt completely invaded, even nonexistent, but she left the room with a discharge plan and a destination for her John Doe.

*

Six moon risings passed in Sanq, bringing no new answers. Milliardo fumed in his chamber.

Her screeching laughter echoed in his mind when they tortured her. Her back was covered with welts from the prods. Milliardo’s scientists devised a toxin derived from man-o-war venom that had a narcotic effect, dosing her heavily with it in an attempt to make her confess Duo’s whereabouts, but she continually mocked them all, flooding her cell with noxious billows of ink as a deterrent.

She whispered threats into their minds. _Don’t let your young swim too far from the reef… unless you want them to play with my pets._

No one asked you to speak yet, Gar countered. _When we want you to loosen your tongue, you’ll know, witch_. He glared balefully at her through the field around her cell.

_Address me as Your Highness._

Go to hell, ink stench. Remus shook his head disapprovingly, and he tightened his grip on the prod he held, challenging her silently. She tipped her head and smiled malevolently.

He straightened as Zechs arrived with Noin, bowing in salute. Zechs waved him aside, and Remus backed away to let him approach her cell. Une toyed with her braids, re-threading one through a cowry shell that came loose. She rose and slowly billowed and paced the tiny cubicle, contemplating him.

Nephew. How kind of you to comfort me with another visit. The present company’s…perhaps less than stimulating.

Tell us how to find Duo, he snapped. His tone brooked no nonsense. She chuckled. His eyes sparked, and she felt the restrained current of electricity resonating from him, sending little thrills up her back. Taunting him was so delicious.

You won’t find him if he doesn’t wish to be found. How many times must I tell you that I gave him what he wished for before you get it into your thick heads? Krill have better understanding of what’s right in front of them.

You exiled him. Stop spewing your lies, you twisted old bitch.

Exiled him? Hardly. I know exile, darling. I merely sent him topside. He’s an air-breather, just like his sainted mother. Zechs sickened at the memory of Sheila Maxwell, taken from his father far too soon, too cruelly. Rage simmered in his breast.

You sent him to die.

_Pssshhh_ … Une shook her head. _Nonsense. Duo’s a wily squirt. He’s dodged my pets whenever he’s come over to play, hasn’t he? Perhaps not this last time, of course. His father should have taught him better manners for visiting someone else’s home._

_Because you were the ideal hostess,_ Zechs snarled. _Scheming sack of filth_.

_Live-mater spawn,_ she countered evilly.

_More lies. What else would I expect from the Queen of Lies?_

_You mean the true Queen of Sanq._

_Not during my lifetime, or for the life of his line, Une._

_It’s not merely my deferred dream, darling. It’s my birthright._

_Your birthright is on the end of my spear. Milliardo has two sons. No creature from either side of the reef would mate with someone as foul as you._

_You’d be surprised. Many have found pleasure within my tentacles, nephew. Zechs’ stomach twisted in revulsion._

_Don’t. Just don’t. Zechs watched her warily, then brought out the item in his hand, holding it up to the light._

It was Duo’s identification scale. _What use did you think you had for this, that you would take it from him, witch?_

_It’s a pretty trinket, she yawned. A souvenir. Why not?_

_Did you think to throw us off? Zechs suggested. You thought we’d assume that he was dead?_

_He’s certainly lost to you, darling, it makes little difference. Rage boiled inside him. She was too cunning, and they were running out of time._

If they didn’t act soon, they would never see Duo again. Une watched him craftily, eyes locked on the scale collar. He didn’t know that he held the key to recovering his brother in his cursed hand.

It was too delicious.


	14. Breathe You In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo’s living on land, but feeling more adrift. It’s up to Heero to help him adjust, and possibly fall for him a little on the way.

Duo stared at everything with large, curious eyes as he was wheeled outside, leaving the hospital for the first time. He waved vaguely and tried to smile at members of the staff as they told him goodbye.

“We’re gonna miss you,” his bedside nurse told him, “but don’t come back to see us any time soon, okay, Duo?”

“Okay,” he agreed. He clutched his green plastic bag of his possessions on his lap, toying with the white drawstring. His last name on the patient ID label was listed as “Confidential.” Heero only knew that he answered to “Duo.” It bothered him that he had no last name, as of yet, and by that token, didn’t seem to belong to anyone.

Duo was glad for the transport; his land legs weren’t that strong yet, which frustrated him. Heero and his physical therapist accompanied him down the hallways while he practiced ambulating with the merry walker chair at first, then as he graduated to a forward-wheel walker. Heero’s heart went out to him as he stumbled along like a baby calf, but the therapist restrained him from helping him, reminding him that he had to learn to move around on his own efforts. Duo, for his part, was glad to escape the confines of the sterile hospital room and the monotony of the alarms and bland television. He rubbed at the tiny bandage on his elbow, glad to be rid of the needles they kept poking him with.

Duo fidgeted with excitement, knocking his foot against the rest on his chair as they rode the elevator downstairs. Heero smiled down at him fondly. “Someone’s happy,” he murmured.

“Home?” Duo inquired.

“Yes, Duo. We’re heading home.” The CNA pushing Duo along smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Looking sharp, bud.” Duo was comfortably dressed in some lightweight nylon workout pants and a soft henley shirt that Quatre bought for him, irked at the thought of sending him home in hospital pajama pants or scrubs. One of the elderly hospital volunteers took the time to brush and braid his long hair, enjoying the chance to run her hands through its softness. Duo’s face lit up when she showed him her handiwork in a small mirror, and he hugged her in gratitude. Duo gradually filled out a bit, still gaunt, but looking less wasted and frail. He ate everything they served him, but Heero would be glad to feed him something less bland once they got settled in. The dark shadows under his eyes faded, and Heero couldn’t believe how much better he looked.

His beauty was breathtaking. Heero stared at him once they made it outside to the front ramp and circular driveway. The sunlight bathed them with its warmth, and it lingered on Duo’s chestnut hair, making it gleam. Duo made a sound of pleasure in his throat, not noticing Heero staring at him.

“It’s a great day to be outside,” his aide remarked. “Do you have a car coming around for you?”

“Yes,” Heero told her. Quatre’s driver was coming for them, and Heero looked down at his phone when it pinged at him, telling him he had a text. He hit the “call” button and answered Quatre with a clipped “We’re out.” A minute later, Quatre’s limo pulled up, and the blond rolled down the back window, leaning out and smiling. 

“Let me put his things in the trunk,” Quatre told them, but his driver insisted that he’d take care of it, popping the trunk and climbing out to meet them. He took Duo’s folded walker and laid it in the trunk, along with a thick folder of paperwork Heero carried and Duo’s possession bag. The CNA helped Heero transfer Duo into the car from the chair, and he looked slightly concerned about the car’s plush interior, wondering why the space was so small and close.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Quatre encouraged.

“You guys travel in style,” the aide told them. “Good luck, Duo. Get well.” He waved weakly but still looked unsure. He relaxed when Heero got in beside him, and Quatre took the seat opposite them, leaning back against the privacy window. He rapped on it and spoke to his driver.

“Heero’s apartment, Jensen.”

“Yes, Mr. Winner.”

Duo startled slightly when soft classical music pumped through the speakers. He glanced around and laid his hand against the window, then the seats, wondering where the sound was coming from. Heero and Quatre exchanged an amused look. “It’s Vivaldi,” Quatre offered, but that didn’t help Duo much. “I thought it sounded nice.” Heero shrugged.

They rode along peacefully, and Duo took in the scenery speeding by, amazed by all of the strange new things. Trees, houses, people whizzing by on bicycles, joggers in brightly colored workout gear and earbuds in their ears, transit buses, delivery trucks with large posters of people on the side… it was dizzying, but Duo wanted to take it all in. Quatre tried to be a good sport about the handprints on his passenger window…

Quatre and Heero helped Duo upstairs, both of them shouldering his weight. Even that brief exertion exhausted him, and he was panting and leaning against Quatre while Heero fiddled with his keys. But before he could push the housekey into the lock, his door swung open, and Wufei greeted them with a measured look.

“You made it home okay?”

“Help us get him to the couch, ‘Fei,” Heero grumbled, and Wufei backed off, making sure they had a clear path to get there. He moved aside the blankets he’d used to sleep there the night before, realizing guiltily that he’d made himself more at home at Heero’s place then his own while he was at the hospital. He’d spent almost as much time on the unit visiting as Quatre, but he was also trying to hold down the fort at work, dealing with their clients on the phone and lining up other contracts. Heero noticed how haggard Wufei looked, as though he hadn’t slept much more than Heero had.

“You should go back to bed, ‘Fei.”

“I’ll manage. Just need some coffee.” His green tea hadn’t helped; it was time for industrial strength caffeine.

“No. You just need some sleep.”

“I still have to run a few errands. Do you need anything? I already did the shopping.”

“No. I think we’re okay.”

“Good. I left some messages in the kitchen for you. Don’t forget to check your machine. Mail’s on the table.”

“Fei.” Duo tried out his name, staring up at him. Wufei grunted.

“You don’t remember me.” Duo reached up and held his own braid for a moment, then pointed to Wufei. Wufei chuckled, touching his own ponytail.

“We’ve got the same hairdresser, bud.” Heero settled Duo back onto the couch cushions, tucking a pillow behind him and helping him out of his sandals before he propped his legs up.

“Hen,” Duo told him.

“What?”

“M…moth… mother hen,” he pronounced, then looked to Heero to confirm whether he’d said it right. Quatre hid his face behind his hand and had to turn away for a minute, but his shoulders were shaking.

“Seriously?” Wufei gave Heero a long-suffering look. “That’s what you teach him?”

“His words are coming along,” Heero offered, but a smirk was playing at the corners of his mouth, and Wufei wanted to smack him.

“Nice. Right. That’s my cue to go.” Wufei grabbed his windbreaker and baseball cap off the peg and put them on as he headed for the door. Quatre’s cheeks were pink from trying to restrain his snickers. “That’s enough out of you.” The laughter escaped him, and Wufei gave Quat a little shove before he let himself out.

“Fei… shit,” Heero muttered before he broke away from Duo and chased him down. “Fei! Wait!” His footsteps thundered down the concrete steps as he caught up to his ex. “Wufei… hey.” He grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. “Look, thanks for everything. And I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass. I don’t expect you to-“

“You say you don’t. But then you go out and do something stupid and I end up doing this. Being a mother hen.” Wufei shook his head sadly. “We’ve had a good run, Heero. I’m headed back to my place. I’m going to recharge and decompress. Do me a favor and don’t call me for at least forty-eight hours.” Heero was chastened.

“Okay.”

“It’s not… I’m not angry. I’m just… worn out. When you were hijacked, I was scared shitless. I haven’t slept since. And now, I know you want to help your friend. I’m really not sure he is who you say he is, or even what that makes him to you… but you seem like you care about him. If that pans out, Heero, I’m happy for you. But I can’t… watch.” He gestured between the two of them. “I can’t put in the emotional investment for this weird ‘thing’ we have, if you’re already looking elsewhere and moving on.”

“’Fei.” Heero’s lips were a tight line. “Damn it.” He rubbed his nape and stared at the ground, then glanced back up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m tired of ‘sorry.’”

“I love you.” The words hurt them both, when he meant for them to heal. “I never stopped. Trust me when I tell you that you still mean so much to me. I just know we went as far as we could go.” Wufei’s eyes burned, and he had to look away from him, but Heero closed the space between them and gripped his shoulders. “You’ve been miserable with me. It hurts me to see you unhappy.”

“You’re full of shit. You know that?” Heero nodded. Wufei sighed, and Heero didn’t fight it when Wufei cupped his face and drew him in for a slow, searching kiss, offering nothing more than closure. They broke the contact, and Heero’s eyes were red and glistening with unshed tears.

“Take it easy, ‘Fei.”

“Later.” Heero spun on his heel and fled to his apartment, not knowing if he could handle watching him drive away. He let himself back inside and leaned back against the door once he locked it, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He heard the microwave running and saw Quatre in the kitchen, jacket off and sleeves rolled up as he puttered around.

“I’m making him some soup. ‘Fei bought some stuff for sandwiches, too, if you want me to… you okay?” Heero shook his head.

“I’m gonna just… go lie down.” Heero retreated to his room, shooting Duo an apologetic look as he wandered to his bedroom. Duo looked troubled.

“What’s… wrong?”

“Nothing, sweetie. Let’s eat.” Quatre set the bowl down on the coffee table, warning him, “It’s hot.” He continued working in the kitchen, putting away clean dishes that Wufei had washed, making sandwiches, and thawing meat for supper. He decided to keep Duo company for a while later while Heero rested, and Quatre sat with him on the couch, skimming through the cable menu until they found Disney’s Tarzan. The two of them settled in, chatting quietly, with Duo pointing and asking monosyllabic questions, and Quatre patiently answering them all.

*

Heero woke up several hours later, groggy and wondering how the day got away from him; his bedroom was dark except for the last of the evening sunlight streaming in through his blinds. He yawned and stretched, but when he tried to extend his leg, it was trapped. “What…?”

Soft, warm breath fanned over his nape and stirred his hair, and his back was warm. The weight of an arm draped over his waist told him he wasn’t in bed alone. He re-ran the day’s events in his mind and realized it wasn’t ‘Fei. He reached down and touched the hand splayed over his stomach, noticing the hospital wrist band.

Duo.

He never even felt him crawl into bed with him, only remembered crying himself to sleep until his eyelids drooped, feeling so much like he’d fucked up. His sleep had been fitful, at first, but then it deepened, and a strange calm stole over him, muffling his noisy thoughts.

“Hey. Duo.” He heard his voice, slightly raspy, groan against his neck, and that sent pleasant little shivers down Heero’s spine. It had been a long time since he’d woken to the feeling of someone cuddled up to him, and his body seemed to crave it.

“Heero,” he murmured.

“I’m right here. Were you lonely?” Heero took advantage of Duo’s stretch to flip over before Duo’s arm settled back over him, and he huffed a laugh as Duo tightened his grip, burying his face against his shoulder. Duo made a pleased, needy little sound and threw his leg over Heero’s, trapping him completely. “Okay. Obviously you weren’t planning to let me get up.”

“Nnnnnnhhh… uh-uh.” That statement was pretty clear, Heero decided. What Duo lacked in actual vocabulary, he made up for in nuance of meaning.

“Where’s Quatre?”

“Right here,” Q told him from the doorway. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and his blonde hair was slightly mussed. “I didn’t even hear him get up. We had a Disney movie marathon. He likes the show tunes. Really liked the Little Mermaid, until Ursula came along.” Heero chuckled.

“Sure made himself comfortable.”

“He was probably as tired as you were. He’s sweet, Heero.”

“I know.” Heero shifted him so that he could wrap an arm around Duo’s back, and Duo curled himself around him, face nuzzling his throat.

“There’s still so much we don’t know about him.”

“When he’s ready, he’ll tell us,” Heero assured him. Quatre saw the soft look Heero was giving his houseguest and sighed.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into, Heero.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for everything, Q. I owe you.”

“Thank me by letting me sleep in my own bed for more than two hours tonight.” He smiled weakly and waved. “I’ll get going.”

“G’night, Q.”

“G’night. I’ll lock up.” Heero heard Duo sigh in his sleep as Quatre locked the door behind him. Heero gently eased himself loose long enough to strip down to his boxers, go to the bathroom, and to ease Duo out of the workout pants and tuck him under the covers. He climbed back into bed, and Duo automatically reached for him again. He fell asleep with him plastered against his body, his soft hair tickling his lips.

He dreamed of waves crashing against a beach and of violet eyes. It was the best sleep Heero could ever remember having.


End file.
